The Dark Summer
by Bweasleyisourking
Summary: The Dark Lord wins the Second Wizarding War and Hermione is a prisoner. She is forced to marry Voldemort's most loyal servant: Severus Snape. Her marriage thrusts her into a new world of pureblood high society and dangerous intrigue. Is there more to her new husband than meets the eye? AU after HBP.
1. Prologue

The Dark Summer

Prologue

Hermione contemplated her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes swept cautiously over her hair, tamed into submission by magic. Her eyes strayed down her face, observing her expertly applied makeup. In this light, with the magic of the house-elves, she supposed she looked beautiful. Except for her eyes, of course. Her eyes held no light, only defeat and fear. This was certainly not the way she had imagined her wedding day. A shiver ran up her spine as she considered the implications of that thought: her _wedding_ day. After today (and tonight), she would be truly and utterly damned. Never, in all her wildest dreams or darkest terrors had she ever considered the possibility that her bridegroom would be the man she despised above all others, save for Voldemort himself. Never had she imagined this fate worse than death. Today, she would marry Severus Snape.

A tall, platinum blond stood behind her, careful adjusting the delicate tiara that crowned her head. Narcissa Malfoy stood back, appraising her handiwork.

"Well," she simpered, "You certainly will never be mistaken for a _pureblood_ witch. But, this will have to do." She gently adjusted Hermione's full curls, sighing thoughtfully. "Yes, this will have to do. Although, I doubt your intended expects much. I still cannot fathom why he is insisting upon marrying _you_. He could have chosen any woman in the Wizarding World."

Hermione's eyes met Narcissa's in the reflection of the mirror. "I wish he had chosen any other woman," she said softly. She gasped in pain as her arm was gripped fiercely, sharp talons pinching into her skin.

"Severus Snape is a good man," Narcissa hissed. "He is the only reason you live and breathe today. But for him, your body would have been discarded carelessly, along with all the other _Mudbloods_ and Order members after the Dark Lord's victory. You owe him your life, and you will do well to remember that."

Hermione closed her eyes, her mind swirling with memories and painful visions. It had been a very dark summer indeed.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One – Prisoner of War

_Her arm burned. The dark magic used to cut that filthy word into her arm was powerful, made even stronger by the hatred and fury of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione felt the cold edge of a dagger pressing against her throat. Bellatrix screamed into her ear, "STOP OR SHE DIES." Death seemed a welcome repose after the torture she had endured. She must not give up, she reminded herself. Harry will save her. Ron will save her. They will find a way. Her eyes glanced upward as she heard the chandelier creaking. Before she knew what was happening, she was shoved away from Bellatrix, stumbling into Ron. He gripped her tightly as Harry disarmed Draco and threw a wand toward them. Ron caught it in his outstretched hand and turned on his heel to Apparate. Before he could, Hermione was ripped away from him. Ron disappeared with a pop, followed shortly by Harry, Dobby, and the knife Bellatrix had flung toward them. Hermione had been left behind. Shaking, she lifted her eyes toward the cold, dangerous face of Lucius Malfoy who gripped her shoulders painfully._

Snapping out of her thoughts, Hermione shuddered at the memory. She had been abandoned, a prisoner of the enemy. Every ensuing day had been a mixture of hope and terror. They would rescue her, she repeated to herself, alone in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. They had to. Someone would come. The light always prevails, she told herself.

This time, however, the light had not.

It had been Lucius who came to her after the Battle of Hogwarts. Her fist clenched at the memory of his smirking face, gleefully telling her about the defeat of the "Boy Who Lived No More." Harry had failed. He and Ron had fallen on the battlefield. "A pity you weren't there," Lucius drawled. "Perhaps you could have saved them. Perhaps, with your help, they would have been victorious." He gave a sarcastic, pitying sigh. "I guess we shall never know. Your fate has yet to be decided. I voted to dispose of you after using you for the only thing Mudbloods are good for." He trailed a lecherous hand along her cheek, eyeing her suggestively. He leaned down to whisper darkly into her ear. "I still hope I will see that wish fulfilled." Hermione shuddered.

That had been the worst night. She would never see Ron or Harry again. She spent the night in silent prayer and meditation, preparing herself for her own death. Death, she reasoned, would bring peace. Nothing could be worse than the hell she had lived for the last few weeks. No, she decided. Death would be a welcome end. When she heard footsteps approach her cell the next morning, she held her head high and willed herself not to shake. She would meet her death calmly and gracefully, like the strong woman she was. The door had opened to reveal Narcissa Malfoy. Scowling, she jerked Hermione from the cell. She pulled Hermione up the stairs, into the Great Hall that had been the setting for the earlier skirmish. Death Eaters surrounded them. Voldemort sat upon a raised dais at the end of the room, lording over the meeting. Narcissa stopped in front of the maniacal man and forced Hermione to her knees. "_Kneel!" _she hissed into Hermione's ear. Hermione sank to her knees gracefully, her head aloft. Voldemort considered her slowly, trailing his snake-like eyes down her face and body.

"The last living member ofthe _Golden Trio_," he drawled sardonically. The Death Eaters tittered with glee. "What to do with you, my pretty? A quick death seems far too kind. Perhaps, Lucius, your suggestion was right." Lucius rose from his place near the dais. "My Lord, you honor me." He stalked to her, preparing to grab her. Hermione closed her eyes, steeling herself for the inevitable assault.

A word from Voldemort stopped him in his tracks. "However," the Dark Lord began, "I have had another suggestion from my _most loyal _follower." Lucius turned around, hesitant. "My Lord?"

Voldemort spoke lazily, "Yes, our dear Severus has made a most unusual request. Given his most fervent loyalty and years of service, I feel compelled to grant him his desire."

The Death Eater sitting at Voldemort's right hand rose slowly, walking in front of the dais to face his master. He bowed deeply. "My Lord," he spoke adoringly, "I wish only to please you. I only submit my request because I believe this will further serve your great purposes for our world. My only desire is to serve you, my Lord."

Voldemort smiled slowly, a truly terrifying sight to behold. "Explain your reasoning, Severus," he hissed.

Snape stood. "It occurs to me, my Lord, that we now face a problem of… assimilation. Your victory was heroic and effectively obliterated the Order of the Phoenix. The issues that remain, however, are the witches and wizards who never truly joined either side. Undoubtedly, they will flock to you out of fear. However, your goal has always been control of the Wizarding World. We must carefully and deliberately show the populace that, as long as our desires are met, pureblood and halfblood witches and wizards have nothing to fear from us. Our infiltration of the _Daily Prophet_ and the Ministry has given our cause complete control of the government. I do think it prudent, however, to embark on a public relations campaign of sorts. Show the world that your mercy can be extended to those who willingly and wholeheartedly accept your rule and your great cause. I believe Miss Granger is the perfect opportunity to bring the Wizarding community into harmony."

Bellatrix stormed forward, outrage apparent on her face. "HOW DARE YOU!" she screeched at Snape. "Who are you to question our Lord? You think our Lord needs _public approval?_" she spat. Snape was unfazed. "What is your suggestion, Bella? _Crucio _every member of the Wizarding World, save those in this room? Kill them all? Think, Bella, _think_! We cannot function as a society without the mindless goats running our basic services and functions. We _must_ have the support of the general population."

Bellatrix started to yell again, but was silenced by Voldemort. "Come now, Bella. We must play nicely. You have never been the strategist that Severus is. He is my most trusted and loyal advisor. You, Bella, are not. You must learn to respect your betters. _Crucio!_"

Bellatrix fell to the floor, convulsing wildly. Hermione watched in satisfaction as she screamed uncontrollably. Finally, Voldemort released the spell. Bellatrix crawled back to her place among the Death Eaters and said no more.

Voldemort stood and walked slowly from the dais. Snape kneeled as he approached. Voldemort gazed thoughtfully at the subservient head of his servant. "Yes, Severus, I think I will grant you your request. You have the forethought that others among us do not. I do not doubt that you will serve me well as we build a great future for the Wizarding World. You may marry the girl."

Snape bent towards the floor, reverently lifting Voldemort's robes towards his lips. "You honor me, Master." He kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes humbly.

Hermione's mind spun. _Marry? Marry… Snape? No. Impossible_. She was a Muggle-born witch. Voldemort's most trusted follower would never marry a _Mudblood_. She looked around the room, dazed. Her own thoughts and revulsion were mirrored on the faces of the Death Eaters around the room. Shock and horror contorted Bellatrix's face.

Voldemort returned to the dais before he spoke again. "The marriage of Severus and Miss Granger will be a grand occasion. We will publicly and proudly show the world that even _Mudbloods_ are welcome, when they submit themselves in marriage to those of superior blood. And as the last living member of the _Golden Trio_, those who still think fondly of Mr. Potter will not hesitate to support our cause once they see her allying herself with Severus. We will charm the general population into accepting our new world order. You will all join us for this most joyous occasion. I think one month should be sufficient to publicize and plan, don't you agree, Severus?" Snape murmured his agreement softly.

"Very good. I am sure Lucius and Narcissa would be honored to host your wedding, especially considering their many failings in the recent war," Voldemort tutted softly. Lucius hesitated before Narcissa stepped smoothly to stand beside her husband. "Of course, my Lord. We would be honored," she said, curtseying gracefully. "Very well! It is settled." Without another word, Voldemort stalked from his throne, ignoring the bows and curtseys of his followers as he departed the room. Bellatrix limped behind him.

Hermione knelt, dumbstruck, as the Death Eaters moved around her. She was jerked out of her stupor by a rough hand pulling her up onto her feet. "_Come," _hissed her former professor. He shoved her towards the door of the Great Hall, down a corridor and into a small study. He waved his wand, slamming the door and warding the room.A soft _Muffliato_ barred any sound from escaping. Snape turned to face her, leering at her and invading her space. She shrank back, forgetting her earlier resolve to face her fate bravely. She struggled to find her voice, unsure of herself and her words. Finally, she squeaked out one word. "_Why?"_

Snape smirked down at her. He towered over her mercilessly, stepping closer and closer to her. He leaned down until he was just inches from her face. Looking her directly in the eyes, he spoke softly. "Isn't it obvious? You have tormented me for years, Miss Granger. The insufferable little know-it-all, that bloody hand of yours waving in the air; driving me mad. I could have let them kill you, but instead, I have used my considerable influence to spare your life. You are indebted to me. You will bend to my will now. I will control your mind and your body. What a sweet victory this is." His hand snaked along her side, coming up to her chest. He squeezed her right breast roughly. He chuckled softly at her gasp of surprise. "Oh yes, Miss Granger, I will take _you_ as my spoils of war. A nubile young virgin. I will teach you in the art of love as I have taught you potions all these years. So _young_. So _fertile_. Your considerable intelligence will ensure my progeny are no dunderheads."

"P-progeny?" she squeaked again. Her eyes widened in fear. Her shoulders trembled fiercely.

His voice was deadly when he spoke once more. "Of course, Miss Granger. Surely you understand the basic functions of marriage. I have saved your life, and in return, you will be a dutiful wife. I have power and wealth, but I have no heirs. I have no interest in the immortality the Dark Lord craves. My legacy will live in the sons _you_ will bear me."

He stepped back from her. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small box. Opening the case, he extracted a platinum banded ring. A large, oval emerald shimmered brightly at the center of the band, flanked by small diamonds. He grabbed her left hand, slipping the jewel onto her ring finger. He stared at her hand softly for a moment. Gently, he raised it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on her small hand. He released her hand quickly and stepped away from her. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.

"That ring has been in my family for generations; a Prince family heirloom. It is enchanted, of course. You will not be able to remove it yourself. It acts as a form of locator device. I will always be able to Apparate directly to you, even if you are in a location protected by a _Fidelius _charm. There is no escaping me, Miss Granger. Resistance is futile. The sooner you accept this fate, the better off you will be."

His arrogance snapped her out of the trance she had been in since she had first heard Voldemort mention marriage. Outraged, she closed the gap between herself and Snape. She flew at him, pounding her small fists against his chest. He grabbed her wrists, holding them tight as she screamed.

"How dare you! He trusted you! You murdered Dumbledore, you betrayed the Order, and now that farce of a Lord rules the world! It is your fault! You could have saved Harry! And Ron! And everyone – Oh, God, everyone!" Her voice broke. Great, wracking sobs escaped her. She was barely aware of Snape drawing her towards his chest to hold her gently. She cried for the friends who were dead, the cause that was lost, and the world that she had known.

Snape drew her gently towards the chairs facing the fire. He sat down and pulled her into his lap.

"Miss Granger?" he spoke carefully. "Miss Granger?" She looked up at him. "Miss Granger. I cannot offer you love or kindness. The world is different today than it ever has been. I chose to serve the Dark Lord, and will continue to do so. Do I wish things had ended differently? Perhaps. But there is no point contemplating a different world. _This_ is the world we live in now. And let me assure you: I am not a traitor. I am a pragmatist. I choose to live, regardless of which side that leaves me on. I cannot offer you much, but I can offer you my protection. I will do my best to ensure that no harm comes to you. But I can only protect you if you submit yourself to me. You cannot be my equal. You cannot be in control. You will only live if you accept your new place in the world." His words were spoken with more kindness than she had ever heard from him. Still, the ideas incensed her.

"And what new place is that?" she spat at him. "Your Death Eater whore?" She leapt up from his lap and stalked towards the fireplace. Snape stood and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. Anger rippled across his face as he spoke. "Considering that I just _saved your life_, you could stand to be _slightly_ more appreciative to be my _Death Eater whore_." Hermione glared at him defiantly. Before she could speak, his voice hissed into her ear. "_One month, my little bride. One month, and I will fuck you raw and senseless. I cannot wait to spread those legs of yours and fuck you into submission._" She choked in outage.

He ignored her, continuing to spew filth into her ear. "_How very satisfying it will be, to watch you grimace in pain as I divest you of your maidenhead and your dignity. I am so looking forward to filling that sweet little quim of yours. You may as well get this through your thick Mudblood skull now: You – are – mine. The only purpose you serve from this point forward is to please me and provide me with heirs. If I were you, I would pray to Merlin you are able to do both. Otherwise, I will let Lucius have you. Or perhaps Greyback? He seemed so eager to _taste_ you._" Snape released her, shoving her towards the wall. He turned to stalk out of the room. When he reached the door, he paused. "Narcissa will be instructed to teach you proper pureblood etiquette over the next month. _Do not _disappoint me. I will know if you attempt to escape." With that, he flung open the door and swiftly exited the room.

Hermione sank to the floor, unable to hold herself upright anymore. How had this happened to her? Surely this was nightmare from which she would soon awaken. It did not seem possible. Harry was dead, Ron was dead, and she was to marry the greasy git, the bat of the dungeons, the dreaded Potions Master. Voldemort ruled and pureblood supremacy was the new world order. And Snape! Snape appeared to be second-in-command of Voldemort's regime. She was to marry Voldemort's 'most trusted servant'. Why? Why would he choose to spare her? He had never liked her. She glanced down at the ring on her finger. He had kissed her hand and held her while she cried. He offered her protection; that was more than anyone else had to offer. Hermione was the brightest witch of her age, and a Gryffindor. Steeling herself, she made up her mind. She would do whatever it took to live. She would never stop fighting for the light. However small a chance, she would take it. She would live to fight another day. And somehow, someway, she would see Voldemort defeated.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two – Pureblood Etiquette

Narcissa had arrived shortly after Snape departed. She found Hermione crumpled on the floor, hugging her knees against her chest. Narcissa rolled her eyes and hissed at Hermione. "Get up and follow me, _now_." She turned and exited the room. Sighing, Hermione rose to follow. Narcissa guided her further down the corridor, turning into the last room on the left. Hermione was shocked to find herself in a surprisingly pleasant sitting room. Decorated in soft colors and floral fabrics, the room was far more inviting than any other she had seen in Malfoy Manor. Narcissa gestured to a small, cozy chair near the window. Hermione sat warily. Narcissa seated herself diagonally from Hermione on a chintz-upholstered sofa.

Narcissa snapped her fingers and a tea set appeared on the table in front of them. She poured a cup of tea and looked at Hermione hesitantly. "Sugar?" she asked, attempting to muster a smile. The result was not quite a smile, more an uncomfortable grimace. Hermione nodded politely. Taking the tea, she sipped it gingerly. Narcissa prepared another a cup and sat back into the sofa. She looked at Hermione critically.

Narcissa sighed deeply. "That was an… unexpected turn of events. I would not believe the events that have transpired this morning, had I not witnessed them myself. As it is, though, you are now a guest in my home. I have been charged with planning this wedding and instructing you in the ways of a proper pureblood wife." Narcissa snorted. "I cannot say I have much hope for that endeavor. But I shall do as my Lord commands."

Hermione eyed her cautiously. "A… guest?" she queried.

Narcissa sniffed haughtily. "Yes, a _guest_. What did you expect? That Severus would marry you down in the dungeons?"

"Of course not," Hermione sputtered. "I am just surprised… by everything, frankly."

"Well, that makes two of us. Now, I have much to do and much to teach you over the next month. I am given to understand that you are the 'brightest witch of your age,' so there may be some things that you can learn from me. You must understand, however, that I expect total obedience from you. I am not one of your little _girlfriends_ that you can cry and carry on with about your pitiful existence and dead friends. Do not disparage your fiancé in my presence, or speak ill of the Dark Lord. I will not hesitate to report such behavior to both Severus and my Master."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but remembered her resolve to live and fight another day. "I understand."

Narcissa's eyebrows shot up. "Excellent. Now, you look positively horrid. I suppose that is inevitable when you spend weeks in a dungeon. Regardless, you will retire to your chamber. I expect to see you back here for lunch in one hour. You will properly bathe and dress. I will send an elf up with a suitable outfit. You _will _allow the elf to assist you. That hair is absolutely disgraceful, and you certainly won't be allowed your wand back anytime soon." Sitting her teacup down, Narcissa rose gracefully. "Liddy!" In an instant, a small female house-elf popped into view, dressed in a pale pink pillowcase. "Yes, madam?" The house-elf curtseyed deeply. "Take Miss Granger to her room. Draw her bath and then fetch something suitable for her to wear. You will arrange her hair and makeup. When she is presentable, return her here for lunch." Liddy curtseyed again. "Of course, madam." Taking Hermione by the hand, she pulled the girl out of the room with surprising strength. "Come along, young miss."

Hermione was led back into the corridor, through the Great Hall, up several flights of stairs and through a maze of corridors. Finally, she arrived at her destination. She found herself in an elegantly appointed bedroom. A tester bed with carved mahogany posts dominated the room. The duvet was a rich lilac. The room had large windows with sheer curtains draped around them elegantly. A fireplace on the wall across from the bed anchored a pair of cozy looking chairs. Hermione felt a small hand tug at her own. "This way, Miss," Liddy instructed. Following the house-elf, Hermione entered a luxurious bathroom. A claw-foot tub sat underneath a window draped with sheer curtains. Large mirrors surrounded the sink and a carved mahogany stool sat in front of a vanity. Liddy made quick work of drawing a bath, filling the tub with various liquids until it nearly overflowed with bubbles. Liddy turned toward Hermione expectantly. "Come now, young miss. Into the tub."

Hermione shifted awkwardly. "I'll be fine on my own, thank you. There's no need for you to stay."

Liddy looked up at Hermione. "Madam Malfoy says young miss is to become a proper young lady. Proper young ladies always have help bathing and dressing. Now, into the tub!"

Before she could protest, Liddy snapped her fingers. Hermione was instantly divested of her dirty, ragged Muggle clothes. With a squeak, she hopped into the tub quickly.

"That wasn't so hard, was it young miss?" Liddy asked. Humming to herself, she began to flit around the room, gathering small bottles and a large pitcher. She stood behind Hermione, pouring warm water over her head and washing her hair. After a moment, Hermione felt herself relax into the warm water and the soothing sensation of her hair being washed. She had spent an awful lot of time in the dungeons and she so enjoyed baths. She hadn't had a proper one since they were at Grimmauld Place and… No. No, she would not think of Harry and Ron now. She would not allow herself to come undone. There would be a time for tears and it was not now. She had to keep herself together. She had to play along. Her life depended on it.

...

Hermione stood in front of the large cheval mirror in her, tugging at the outfit Liddy had brought. The soft tweed skirt and jacket in a lilac color were modest but well fitted. Her hair was frizz-free and lay in elegant curls down her back. Her skin was bright and her eyes lightly lined. This elegant woman reflected back at her was a far cry from the ragged prisoner she had been only an hour before. _Play along,_ she reminded herself. _Just play along._ Sighing, she turned away from the mirror.

She followed Liddy along the same winding path that had taken her to her chamber. She arrived back at the door of the sitting room and entered. Narcissa sat at small table in one corner of the room surrounded by a set of dining chairs. The table was laden with sandwiches and fruits. Hermione's stomach began to rumble, much to her displeasure. She had not been particularly well fed as a prisoner of the Malfoys. Narcissa extended a hand and gestured for her to sit. Sitting back in her own chair, Narcissa nodded at Hermione approvingly. "Better," she said simply.

They ate together silently. Once they had both finished, Narcissa cleared her throat.

"I suppose you have many questions. I realize this has been a confusing and difficult time for you. I will allow you to ask questions, which I will answer to the best of my ability, if I deem the question appropriate." Narcissa looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione stared back blankly. Narcissa sighed heavily. "Miss Granger, from our brief interactions, it seems to me that the title 'brightest witch of her age' must be gravely inaccurate. Am I mistaken?"

Hermione steeled her shoulders and sat up straighter. "Um… thank you. I do have questions." Narcissa nodded. "Proceed."

"Well… Voldemort sai-" Hermione began. Narcissa's hand shot up immediately to silence her. "No," she said firmly. "You must refer to him as the 'Dark Lord' or 'Master.' That is absolutely crucial."

Swallowing hard, Hermione nodded. "Right. Pardon me. _The Dark Lord_ said something about a great future… what did he mean by that? I always thought the plan was to kill off all the Muggle-borns and then control everyone with Dark Magic."

Narcissa gave a very un-ladylike snort into her teacup. "Is that what Dumbledore led you all to believe? In short, no, that has never been his goal. The Dark Lord believes in upholding the purity of magical blood, yes. Our world is threatened by Mudbloods because they pose a threat of exposure. The more Muggles that know of our existence, the more in danger we are. How quickly some in our world forget about the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem Witch Trails. Muggles are prone to fear mongering and hysteria anytime magic is mentioned. The Dark Lord is only trying to protect our world and our blood."

"I see," Hermione answered. "Erm – thank you." Narcissa nodded. "Other questions?"

_Assimilation_, Hermione reminded herself. _Live another day_.

"You and Professor Snape keep talking about learning pureblood etiquette… I don't understand what is so different about pureblood customs?" Narcissa gave her signature sigh. "Yes, I suppose you wouldn't understand. Pureblood witches and wizards have a unique set of customs and traditions that date back millennia. Pureblood society has very strict standards of behavior. Severus is the sole remaining member of the Prince family. The Prince family, like the Malfoys and the Blacks, are a proud pureblood family that traces its ancestry back to Merlin himself. If you are to become his wife and bear his heirs, you must observe these customs and traditions. That is what I will teach you."

Hermione contemplated her words. "So… sort of like Muggle English royalty? And Victorian society?" Narcissa looked at her blankly. "I'm not sure of what you speak. Nevertheless, this is an excellent first lesson: Do not compare the Wizarding world to the Muggle world. _Ever_. Our world is superior. We have the gift of magic; therefore, we do not concern ourselves with the details of Muggles. Remember that," Narcissa warned darkly.

Hermione nodded slowly. It would be a very long month.

...

Hermione had expected to see Snape or Voldemort (as she rebelliously called him in her mind) during the month before her wedding. To her pleasant surprise, however, she did not. The month passed quickly. Hermione had easily fallen into a routine. In the morning, she breakfasted in the Great Hall with the Malfoys. Lucius leered at her, Narcissa forced her to practice inane small talk, and Draco studiously ignored her. Despite Narcissa's attempts to draw either man into conversation with the pair, neither seemed inclined. In fact, Draco refused to make eye contact with Hermione. It was just as well. She did not want to risk provoking him. Narcissa insisted daily that Hermione was a guest in their home and would soon be a de facto member of their family. Lucius and Narcissa considered Severus part of their family; he was Draco's godfather. Those familial ties, Narcissa assured her, would extend to her after their wedding.

Hermione had been very much surprised by how civil Narcissa had acted towards her. Whatever her genuine feelings towards Hermione might be, she did not dare risk displeasing Voldemort again. She was polite and patient with Hermione. Every day after breakfast, they would retire to her sitting room for lessons. Narcissa instructed Hermione in the history of the great pureblood families, the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' as she referred to them. The Blacks, the Malfoys, and the Princes were all part of this prestigious society. Hermione learned the sigil of each house, their family estates, and the naming traditions associated with each family. The Blacks, Narcissa explained, took their names from constellations. The Princes (well, the sons at least) were all named after Roman emperors. This thought had given Hermione pause, considering Snape's chilling words in the library that day. "_My legacy will live in the sons _you_ will bear me." _She shuddered at the thought. For a moment, she considered which Roman emperor Snape would choose to name their son after. _Probably Caligula,_ she thought stubbornly.

She learned extensively about the family homes of each of the Twenty-Eight. The home she was currently a guest in, Malfoy Manor, had been built in the early 1700s by one of Lucius' ancestors. Narcissa explained that, after her marriage, Hermione would become the lady of Snape's ancestral home, Prince Park. Much of Narcissa's tutelage centered on the running of a large household, the managing of house-elves, and the customs that being 'lady of a manor' required. Hermione bit her tongue and wisely chose not to mention S.P.E.W.

Despite Narcissa's kindness and Hermione's resolve, it had been a difficult month. She struggled to bite her tongue at the ridiculous and archaic customs she was attempting to learn. Her heart ached constantly at the thought of her deceased friends and she wondered constantly about the fate of others. Was Ginny alive? Mrs. Weasley? Tonks? Lupin? She doubted it, but there was no one to answer her questions. She just had a vague understanding that Harry and Ron were dead, the war had been won by the Dark, and Voldemort was in control.

Hermione attempted to take pleasure in the smallest of things. Her daily lunch with Narcissa in the sitting room was always amiable. Narcissa used this time to go over wedding plans. To Hermione's great surprise, she had allowed her some slight input into the event. Did Hermione prefer cabbage roses or peonies? Chicken or fish? The colors (emerald of course, with purple accents to honor the Prince family) were nonnegotiable. Her dress was, as well. Hermione was to wear the dress Snape's grandmother had been married in, which a house-elf had delivered days before from Prince Park. The house-elf (a female, Mitzi) had enthusiastically greeted Hermione and expressed her most sincere excitement that Hermione would be joining them soon as their new madam. Hermione had awkwardly returned the affection with an enthusiasm she did not feel.

As Hermione had learned over the past month, evening meals in large households were always formal affairs. She had been provided with a selection of dress robes to borrow temporarily; Narcissa had arranged for a team of seamstresses to commission a trousseau for Hermione. Every afternoon was filled with fittings and choosing of fabrics, patterns, and styles. Each item was custom made. Hermione had wondered aloud at the price of such an extensive wardrobe, to which Narcissa had rolled her eyes and assured her that the Prince family vaults could more than support the cost. Narcissa commanded each fitting with decisive ease. As a result, Hermione had now had a collection of skirt suits for daily wear (nearly identical to what Narcissa herself wore), a colorful array of dress robes ranging from velvet to silk, countless shoes, handbags, stockings, and (most upsetting) a ridiculously extensive collection of colorful lace lingerie. Hermione had vehemently protested _those_ items. Narcissa, in her gentle but unyielding manner, ignored her protests and picked out the items herself.

The only moments when Narcissa's friendly but aloof veil dropped was when Hermione thoughtlessly mentioned her reluctance to marry her former professor. After a particularly exhausting fitting, Hermione had mistakenly mumbled her thoughts on wasting such beautiful clothing on the "greasy git." Narcissa had flown into a rage that rivaled Voldemort himself; in that moment, Hermione had seen the family resemblance between Narcissa and Bellatrix. It was those moments that reminded Hermione that her elegant chamber and new wardrobe did not change the fact that she was, for all intents and purposes, very much a prisoner.

The day before her wedding, her trousseau had been packed into her new trunks and sent on to Prince Park. The only remaining items in her chambers were a nightgown, her wedding dress and bridal accessories, and her going-away outfit. Tomorrow she would leave the lilac bedroom she had come to feel so safe in. _How odd_, she mused to herself. Never would she have imagined that she would associate feelings of safety with a room in Malfoy Manor. But somehow, she did. Since Snape had announced his intention to marry her and Voldemort had given his approval, she had been treated more kindly than she had expected to be. Even Bellatrix, who regularly joined the Malfoys for evening meals, only glared at her contemptuously from her heavily hooded eyes. But tomorrow would bring an end to all that. She swallowed hard, remembering Snape's words in the library. "_I cannot wait to spread those legs of yours and fuck you into submission… How very satisfying it will be, to watch you grimace in pain as I divest you of your maidenhead and your dignity." _Hermione shivered. She knew Snape was not a man to make idle threats. One thing was certain; her wedding night would not be the one she had always dreamt about.

Hermione was mortified beyond words when Narcissa decided that her wedding night would be the topic of conversation at their last afternoon tea together. Narcissa set her teacup down and squared her shoulders, looking directly at Hermione.

"Miss Granger… Hermione." Narcissa attempted a smile. "I want to talk to you about tomorrow. Particularly, tomorrow night." Hermione blushed furiously, but did not respond. "I know you are a virgin," Narcissa continued. Hermione's blush deepened and her brows drew together quizzically. "You must be, if Severus is willing to marry you. No head of a pureblood family would take a bride unless she was pure. Purity of blood is very important…naturally. This idea of purity of blood extends to marriages as well. Your husband must be the one to… well, I mean, your virgin blood is very important. Most pureblood families have a tradition or a ritual that accompanies the act. Those are secret, of course, but do not be surprised if there is a talisman or spell involved." Narcissa cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "Normally, your mother or some close friend or relative would have this conversation with you, but considering the circumstances, I feel obligated to. Do you know the… mechanics involved with your wedding night?"

Hermione looked down, unsure of how to answer. She wanted to reply sharply that of course she knew the mechanics involved, she wasn't a simpering idiot. She took a deep breath. _Assimilation_, she reminded herself. Narcissa had been raised as the sheltered daughter of an old pureblood family; she probably had never heard of the "mechanics involved" prior to her own wedding. "I have a… general idea," she replied cautiously.

Narcissa released a breath Hermione had not realized she had been holding. "Good. That saves us some rather startling revelations. I know your marriage to Severus is not a romantic one. Pureblood marriages rarely are. But remember, your duty to him, as his wife, is to give him comfort within you arms and provide heirs to carry on his family name. Severus is a good man, at his core. I believe that if you are kind and gentle with him, he will reciprocate that to the best of his ability. By the same token, if you are cruel and callous with him, he will respond tenfold. Do not cross your husband. He is saving your life. You will have a wonderful life, if you remember your place and strive everyday to make him happy."

Hermione nearly lost her head. How dare this woman tell her to be subservient? How could she, another woman, speak only of the importance of pleasing her husband? How utterly absurd! As if Hermione did not have dreams and desires of her own. Was this to be her whole life? _Please the evil Potions Master_. She stifled a shudder. _Assimilation_, she chanted in her mind. Mustering her best fake smile, she patted Narcissa's hand.

"Thank you. I will strive to always remember your advice." _There_, she thought. _Not quite a lie. I always will remember it. I just may not always follow it._

Narcissa smiled broadly this time. She grasped Hermione's hand gently. "I would so like us to be friends, Hermione. I care for Severus deeply, and I hope our families will be close for years to come." Hermione smiled back at her, earnestly this time. If she were to survive in this new world order, she would need friends. And Narcissa could be a powerful ally. Hermione was quickly learning that her new life was a game that she would have to play skillfully.

...

Hermione could not stomach any food the day of her wedding. Snape's words rang in her ears on an endless loop. _The only purpose you serve from this point forward is to please me and provide me with heirs. _Her stomach rolled at the thought of having a child. She had always wanted children, someday. But not like this. She did not want any child to grow up in this world, surrounded by Death Eaters. She had an image of Voldemort bouncing her child on his knee like a favorite uncle. Her soon-to-be-husband was Voldemort's right hand man. What would that mean for her and her children?

Too quickly, Narcissa arrived with a team of house-elves to prepare her. Hermione was nearly catatonic as she was bathed, coifed, made-up, and dressed. She snapped out of her shock when Narcissa placed her squarely in front of the mirror. For the first time, Hermione evaluated herself. The dress truly was exquisite. Long sheer lace sleeves covered her delicate arms. The lace extended up into a high collar, but dipped into a deep V-neck that accentuated her small but firm breasts. Where the sheer lace ended, lined lace began. The gown fit snuggly again her waist before flaring out into a full skirt with a long lace train. The corset closures crisscrossed down her back, accentuating her small waist. She wore white heels and delicate white lingerie under the gown. The Prince family tiara crowned her shining curls gloriously. Liddy has applied her makeup subtly but expertly. Overall, Hermione was very pleased. Her momentary pleasure with her appearance was quickly overshadowed as Narcissa assessed her.

"Well," she simpered, "You certainly will never be mistaken for a _pureblood_ witch. But, this will have to do." She gently adjusted Hermione's full curls, sighing thoughtfully. "Yes, this will have to do. Although, I doubt your intended expects much. I still cannot fathom why he is insisting upon marrying _you_. He could have chosen any woman in the Wizarding World."

Hermione's eyes met Narcissa's in the reflection of the mirror. "I wish he had chosen any other woman," she said softly. She gasped in pain as her arm was gripped fiercely, sharp talons pinching into her skin.

"Severus Snape is a good man," Narcissa hissed. "He is the only reason you live and breath today. But for him, your body would have been discarded carelessly, along with all the other _Mudbloods_ and Order members after the Dark Lord's victory. You owe him your life, and you will do well to remember that."

Hermione closed her eyes and blushed deeply. "Of course. I apologize."

Narcissa gave her signature sigh. "It is time," she said simply.

Hermione nodded gravely. This was it.

Narcissa led the way down the now familiar path towards the Great Hall, where the wedding would take place. Liddy carried Hermione's train carefully. Too soon, they reached the Entrance Hall. Draco waited for them, looking like pureblood royalty in his black dress robes. He glanced nervously at Hermione as she approached, but looked away quickly. Narcissa turned to explain. "Severus has asked Lucius to stand with him and asked that I stand with you. Therefore, Draco will escort you. You have been a guest in our house during your engagement, so it is only proper that a member of our family serve as your escort."

Hermione nodded. _It's not like I have anyone else to give me away_, she thought ruefully. Her parents were still living in Australia, not even aware they had a daughter whose wedding they were missing. For that, at least, Hermione was thankful.

A house-elf stood near the wide double-doors of the Great Hall holding two bouquets. One was a small collection of purple pansies. The other was a large collection of white cabbage roses. Narcissa took both, handing the larger bouquet to Hermione. She accepted it graciously.

Narcissa fused over Hermione and Draco for a moment, forcing Draco to offer his arm to the bride. Finally, she stood in front of the doors to the Great Hall and nodded to the house-elves on either side. The doors swung open gracefully as music from an enchanted orchestra swelled. Narcissa, shoulders back and head high, strode forward confidently.

Hermione and Draco waited. Looking around nervously, Draco bent ever so slightly. Hermione looked at him quizzically. In a breathless whisper, so faintly she almost missed his words, he spoke. "I'm sorry, Granger. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. It doesn't mean much now, but if he ever hurts you, let me know. I'll try to stop it." Draco straightened again and did not meet her eyes. Hermione gaped at him, but before she could say a word, they were gliding towards the door.


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: **Thank you to all those who have left reviews! They are much appreciated. I am posting the first three chapters today in honor of Hermione Granger's birthday (September 19th). This chapter is shorter, but it felt like a natural stopping point. Please review!

Chapter Three – The Wedding

The Great Hall was transformed. The cold, dreary room she had been tortured in on her first day at Malfoy Manor was gone. The room she walked into now was unbelievably beautiful. Sunlight burst forth from every window in the massively tall room, striking the marble columns that anchored each end. The sunlight glinted off the marble and danced around the room. The floors had been polished so that the rich ebony wood shined, providing a mesmerizing contrast between the darkness of the floors and the lightness of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Music swelled around her as she walked slowly down the aisle.

Guests, sitting in golden chairs on either side of the long aisle, stood as she approached. Snape stood on the dais at the far end of the hall, between Lucius and a man she assumed was the officiant. Snape wore rich green robes that vastly improved his usually sallow complexion. His hair was clean and pulled back neatly. In this light, in such a gorgeous, airy room, he looked almost… handsome? _Surely not_, Hermione thought to herself. _Must be a glamour_. But she could not deny a tiny spark of attraction that swelled within her, circling around the nervousness and apprehension. She remembered his words once more. _I will teach you in the art of love._ A barely perceptible shiver ran through her body. This did not escape Snape's notice. He smirked at her, clearly pleased with ability to intimidate her, even from afar.

Narcissa had already joined the others on the dais when Hermione and Draco finally arrived. Draco stepped to the side after depositing her near her betrothed. Hermione stood and faced Snape. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked back towards the guests she had passed. She had focused so intently on Snape that she had failed to notice the volume of people pressed into the room. She gasped slightly as she began to comprehend the magnitude of this event. There were familiar faces in the crowd: Crabbe, Goyle, and many Death Eaters she recognized. Several of her former professors were present as well. _They switched sides rather quickly,_ she mused. Ministry workers she had encountered, faces she had seen in the _Daily Prophet_, and even Rita Skeeter were among the faces that stared at Hermione now. _I know what they are thinking_, Hermione thought to herself: '_Death Eater whore'. _

Forcing her mind back to the present, she turned her attention toward Snape. Too late, she realized the ceremony had already begun. What was the official saying? Binding something? Souls what?

"- And as such shall be bound together for eternity. The bride shall now make her vows that will constitute the basis for the binding," he said in a singsong voice.

Oh, right. Her vows. As Narcissa had explained to her, each person's vows were unique to what they would bring into the marriage. Some promised love, passion, kindness, or other things. Narcissa had spent hours making her practice the vows that had been written for her. She had not chosen them. Someone else (Narcissa? Snape? Voldemort?) had chosen them to illustrate her deep loyalty to her new husband. _What a joke_, Hermione thought snidely. She began to speak, praying to Merlin her voice would work.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear loyalty to Severus Tobias Snape. I swear to honor the sacred institution of marriage and to always be trustworthy, honest, and steadfast. In doing so, I submit myself to you." _Submission_. That was the part she hated the most. It went against every fiber of her being to promise to submit. _Bloody greasy bastard_, she thought maliciously.

"And now, the groom," the officiant drawled.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape, swear protection to Hermione Jean Granger. I swear to honor the sacred institution of marriage and always be vigilant, decisive, and strong. In doing so, I place you under my protection." He spoke strongly and clearly, his voice ringing throughout the Great Hall. _Of course_, she thought. _I have to be loyal, honest and true and all _he_ has to do is be strong and protect me._ She struggled not to roll her eyes.

"And finally, for the binding of the hands. The ribbons, please." On cue, Lucius and Narcissa each produced a length of silk ribbon. Narcissa handed Hermione a blue ribbon, the color of loyalty. Lucius handed Snape a white ribbon, the color of protection. Snape held out his hand to Hermione and she took it gingerly. The officiant took each of the ribbons in turn and wove their hands together. As he did so, Hermione felt Snape's little finger gently stroke the side of her hand. Once their hands were firmly tied together, the officiant removed his wand from his pocket and held it over their joined hands.

"As the two of your are now bound together by this ribbon, may your souls be bound together by the vows you have made today. _Obligatus!_" With a pop, the ribbons joining their hands disappeared. Hermione felt a shiver of magic rush through her body, originating from the hand that still held Snape's. She looked up as a shower of gold sparks burst around them. The guests erupted into thunderous applause.

Snape offered his arm to her and they turned and exited the Great Hall together. Narcissa and Lucius, also arm in arm, followed them into the Entrance Hall.

Severus led the way back to the study they utilized a month before. A house-elf was waiting there with a bottle of champagne and glasses. Another Wizarding tradition, as Narcissa had explained to Hermione days before. The attendants toasted the happy couple privately immediately following the ceremony. Soon, they would all join the other guests for a receiving line and formal luncheon.

Hermione stood unsure of herself, her arm still hooked around his. Narcissa approached Snape, kissing him warmly on the cheek and offering her congratulations. Lucius approached Hermione slowly, as if her were afraid to startle her. He bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. Looking deeply into her eyes, he spoke softly. "Congratulations, Madam Snape. You are a very, _very_, lucky young woman," he smirked. Switching places with his wife, he grasped Snape's other hand warmly and leaned forward to whisper a few words in his friend's ear. Snape chuckled lightly at whatever he had said. Narcissa enveloped Hermione in a warm hug and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Remember," she whispered into Hermione's ear as she hugged her, "Do try to please him. It will be much easier if you do." Hermione gave her a quick nod and a slight smile.

Draco and the officiant had also followed them into the study. Draco shook his godfather's hand strongly and offered his congratulations before moving to stand in front of Hermione. Like his father, he also placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Congratulations, Madam Snape," he offered. "I'm sure you and Uncle Severus will be very happy together." She gave him a weak smile.

Suddenly, the officiant from the ceremony stood in front of her. He grasped her hand and shook it heartily. "Madam Snape! Congratulations. My name is Gerald Highland; I'm the parson at Prince Park. Lovely chapel there, yes, pity you weren't married there. But the chapel wouldn't hold a tenth of the guests you have today! Ah well, I'm sure you will see it soon and hopefully use it often! Hmm, let's see, today's June 3rd… shall we go ahead and schedule the Christening for March 3rd? That's right at nine months." He laughed enthusiastically as Hermione paled visibly. Narcissa and Lucius, who had overheard the conversation, chuckled as well. Snape squeezed her hand and smirked at her. Hermione and Draco did not laugh.

"Oh dearie me, only teasing, my girl! Only teasing! Bless her! Looks like to faint. You'll have your hands full with this one, my boy," he said conspiratorially to Snape. Snape turned and regarded his bride thoughtfully. "Yes," he murmured lowly. "I think you're quite right."

...

Hermione was exhausted. She had stood in the receiving line for what felt like hours, shaking hands, accepting kisses, and thanking each guest graciously for coming. To think, only a month ago these Death Eaters were cheering for her death and rape. But now that she was married to him ranked highest among them, they offered only their wishes of happiness and prosperity. _How quickly they change their tune. That's something to consider, later._

A lengthy luncheon (chicken, her preference) followed, along with many long-winded toasts by Snape's fellow Death Eaters and supporters, hoping to curry favor with Voldemort's right hand. Voldemort was suspiciously absent from the festivities. She suspected he might be here under Polyjuice Potion. Hermione had been cut off from the world for so long that she did not know if he was making public appearances yet. She had contemplated deeply what role he would play in the new world order. Minister of Magic? Headmaster of Hogwarts? As far as she knew, her new husband was still Headmaster of Hogwarts. Would they return there in the fall? She hoped so. The comforts of Hogwarts, even under Death Eater rule, would undoubtedly bring her much peace.

Finally, the luncheon drew to a close. Hermione was escorted back to her chamber to change out of her wedding gown. The dress was neatly wrapped and sent on. Narcissa had selected a plum colored skirt and jacket for Hermione to wear. Wearing the colors of her new husband's family was a crucial part of ingratiating herself with her new household staff, according to Narcissa. After changing, Hermione returned downstairs. She stood with Snape in the Entrance Hall as guests Apparated away, accepting more well wishes as they went. This time, she allowed her eyes to wonder around the Entrance Hall. Near the front doors, where guests had entered that morning, was a table piled magically high with gifts of all shapes and sizes. _Surely I won't have to write thank-you notes for all of those?_ _Oh dear._ She desperately clung to any mundane thought, hoping to avoid the mental anguish that would come with the realization that she would soon be alone with Snape. _Her husband_.

When all the other guests had departed, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco approached them. Lucius and Draco each gave Severus a hearty handshake while Narcissa pulled Hermione in for a hug. "Good luck," she whispered into Hermione's ear. "I'll invite you to tea as soon as your honeymoon is over. I'll expect all the details!" she giggled. Lucius smirked arrogantly at Hermione, no doubt imagining the fate that awaited her. Draco patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Remember my offer," he breathed into her ear. She nodded appreciatively. Snape circled her waist firmly with his arm, turned on his heel, and with a pop they Apparated away.


	5. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: **

This chapter features light non-con/dub-con. Readers beware.

In the interest of full discretion, Prince Park is based on the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina. Photos are readily available on the web, if you are interested. Some details have been changed, but the layout and general design elements are the same.

Please review!

Chapter Four – Prince Park

Hermione felt the familiar pull of Apparition and suddenly blinked into bright sunlight. She was standing on a long, slopping drive facing a cluster of trees. She could smell fresh cut grass. Turning to Snape, whose arm was still wrapped around her waist, she addressed him for the first time since the ceremony. "Where are we?"

Snape answered slowly. "Your new home, of course. Prince Park." He tugged on her waist, spinning her around. Hermione gasped as she took in the mansion sprawled out before her. She stared gaping at the four-story chateau looming in the distance. She was standing directly in front of a massive fountain gurgling pleasantly. Beyond the fountain, the mansion could be fully viewed. It was a tan limestone with a gray roof and had a distinctively French style. The house outstretched hundreds of feet in either direction. The great, imposing estate before her was unlike anything Hermione had expected. Surely this could not be where _Snape_ lived?

"This?" she asked. "This is _your_ home?"

"It is your home now too, _wife_," he replied quietly. Tugging at her waist again, he walked her down the lawn, past the fountain, and towards the entrance. As they approached the stately front doors, she noticed the line of house-elves stationed outside. They stood stiffly and formally, watching the pair approach.

Snape's voice was in her ear. "It is tradition for the house-elves to do a formal presentation of the staff when welcoming a new bride," he explained softly. She nodded.

One house-elf, dressed in a dignified gray pillowcase, stepped forward. "Master Snape," he said, bowing deeply.

Snape nodded at the bowed figure. "Hello, Norris. I would like to introduce you to my wife, Hermione Snape." _Hermione Snape? Oh sweet Merlin. I never thought I'd hear that, _she thought suddenly.

Norris stood and approached Hermione. "Welcome, Madam Snape. I am Norris, the chief butler of Prince Park. I coordinate the house-elves and oversee daily operations within the house."

"Very pleased to meet you, Norris. The house is stunning. I cannot wait to see all of it," she replied honestly. Narcissa had explained to her at great length that attempting to free the house-elves at Prince Park would be a most grievous faux pas. Hermione had been tempted to argue, but held her tongue. For now, she would go along with the pureblood traditions.

"Thank you, madam. Please, allow me to introduce your household staff," he spoke loudly. He called off a roster of house-elves. As he did so, each stepped forward in turn and gave her a brief bow or bobbed curtsey. "Mitzi! Fane! Sheldon! Ivy! Gerda! Meyer! Abner! Iyra! Walby! Felda! Orenda! Bitzy!" Bitzy looked up and smiled at Hermione shyly after curtseying. Hermione smiled back.

Norris continued, "Bitzy will serve as your primary hand-elf. She is charged with overseeing your rooms, dressing, and bathing. Meyer does the same for Master Snape. Walby, Felda, and Orenda serve the first floor, Abner, Iyra, and Fane the second floor, and Sheldon, Ivy, and Gerda serve the third floor. Mitzi is the chief housekeeper and oversees the kitchen elves and cleaning elves. They will be presented to you later." Hermione was shocked. _More house-elves? This is already a small army. _She looked up at Snape questioningly. He smirked at her. "Nearly 50 house-elves serve Prince Park. The household staff is responsible for waiting on the family and our guests. There are separate teams of house-elves for the cooking, cleaning, and grounds-keeping."

Hermione swallowed hard while Snape spoke again. "Norris, I have some matters to discuss with Fletcher. You will give Madam Snape a tour of her new home while I visit him in the Conservatory. Remember my instructions." Snape turned sharply, his robes billowing out behind him as he stalked off toward the south end of the house.

Norris motioned Mitzi forward as he spoke, "If you would follow us, madam. We hope you will be most pleased with everything. We have all been working around the clock to prepare for your arrival."

Hermione blushed deeply. She hated to be a bother. Following Norris and Mitzi, she approached the front door. As they walked, Norris began reciting what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech.

"Prince Park was built by Master Vitellius Prince in 1421. It was not the grand structure you see today, but a small safe-hold. The original safe-hold is now the foundation of the Banquet Hall. Over the years, the house has been remodeled and reconstructed into the majestic estate you see today. As it stands today, Prince Park is one of the largest family homes in Wizarding Britain. The home today has 250 rooms, including 18 guest rooms, 17 servants' rooms, 43 bathrooms, 65 fireplaces, and three kitchens," Norris rattled off proudly. Hermione tried to suppress the shock she felt. _No wonder he wants a family. It would be so lonely, being alone in such a large place._ She shook herself out of the thought. She would not pity Snape. He was a traitor. But for a moment, she felt her heart twinge with sympathy for him.

Hermione continued toward the house, mesmerized by everything she saw. The arched front doors were a tall ebony wood, decorated with gold leaf accents and framed elegantly by delicate stonework that danced up either side of the doors and towards the windows above. Enchanted stone dragons flanked either side of the imposing doors. Hermione was slightly amused. _Dragons? Not serpents?_ Each dragon cocked its head at her curiously as she passed. "The dragons serve as guardians of the estate," Norris explained. "They are enchanted to judge the worthiness of each guest that passes through these doors. Those found to have malicious or insidious intent are unable to enter without risking great bodily harm." Hermione shivered at the thought. Were her intentions insidious enough to provoke them? The dragons stayed in place, but continued to regard her with interest.

Reaching the front doors, Norris and Mitzi each held one open and ushered Hermione inside. "Welcome home, Madam Snape," Mitzi said solemnly. Passing through the front doors, she found herself in a grand entrance hall. Twelve stone archways were crowned by a wood coffered ceiling soaring two stories into the air. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floors. The entrance hall was immense and cavernous, yet Hermione did not feel intimidated. Rays of sunlight shown through the stone arches at the end of the hallway. To her left, a massive stone staircase sat, spiraling upwards to the floors above. Ahead of her, she could see that many of the stone archways opened into a different room or corridor. Before Hermione could determine what lay beyond each opening, her attention was diverted by the unyielding sunlight shining down upon the room to her right. Turning to look, she gasped. The three connecting archways on the right side of the entrance hall opened into the most beautiful room she had ever seen. Sunken steps led down into a magnificent open room with a vaulted glass and wood ceiling. The circular room was filled to capacity with hundreds of potted ferns, small trees, and glorious flower arrangements. Bright light shown down from the expansive glass ceiling, casting beams of sunlight onto the small benches and tables and chairs scattered throughout. The room was airy and tall, with more stone archways circling it, leading further into the house. Hermione followed the short flight of steps down into the room, marveling at the beauty. Norris and Mitzi were on her heels.

"Ah, yes," Mitzi began. "The Glass Garden. This was added to the home during the Victorian era. Such a lovely room." Lovely was an understatement. At the center of the room, a bronze and marble fountain showed a pair of children frolicking merrily. Eight bronze pendant lights hung from the two-story ceiling. Mitzi continued to speak; "The late Madam Prince hosted afternoon tea in this room. Perhaps the young madam will continue that tradition?"

"Could I do that?" Hermione queried. Norris and Mitzi exchanged confused glances. "Of course, Madam. The home is yours as well as Master Snape's." Hermione's mind raced. _Home. This is my home. And Snape's. Narcissa was right – he could have had any woman in the Wizarding World. _Why, then, had he chosen to save her?Surely there were other, better qualified, more beautiful, equally young women who would throw themselves at him in an attempt to gain all this. Despite his greasy hair and sallow complexion, countless women must have attempted to ingratiate themselves to him over the years.

Norris led her across the marble floor of the Glass Garden and up a half flight of steps back onto the main level. The walked through a wide corridor and through another set of tall stone archways. Hermione's mouth dropped open upon entering the room.

"The Banquet Hall is the location of the original Prince safe-hold built in the 13th century. The hall has been expanded many times since then and is the largest of all the rooms in Prince Park." Hermione craned her neck up to take in the room. The barrel vaulted ceiling soared seven stories tall. Immense arched windows divided the stone walls from the vaulted ceiling, allowing light to filter in pleasantly. Two circular chandeliers lit by candles hovered 30 feet in the air. A large oak table dominated the middle of the room. Purple brocade upholstered chairs with carved wood detail lined the sides of the massive table. Hermione examined the rest of the room, eyes wide. A triple fireplace stood proudly at one end, its stone mantle carved with a tableau of Merlin and Nimue. High above the mantle rested a coat of arms she recognized as the Prince family crest: the white dragon, rampant on a field of purple. _Fortitudo et pertinacia_. Courage and determination. _How wonderfully ironic_, Hermione thought to herself. _Just what I'll need to survive this marriage. _

Tearing her eyes away from the family crest, she walked towards the far wall. Beautiful antique tapestries lined the length of the room. The tapestries depicted scenes from the story of Merlin and Arthur. The wall opposite the fireplace featured soaring organ pipes and a minstrel's gallery high overhead. Underneath the minstrel's gallery, at ground level, an elaborately carved built-in sideboard held an enviable collection of silver cups, golden plates, cut crystal and delicate bone china bearing the Prince family crest.

"The Banquet Hall seats seventy for dinner. Formal dinner is served every evening." This gave Hermione pause. "Oh," she began. "Even if it's just Professor Snape and I?" Norris eyed her more curiously. "Of course, Madam; every evening at seven o'clock sharp. Master Snape is a very punctual man." Mitzi nodded in agreement and took Hermione's hand gently. "Only evening meals and formal occasions are served in this room. Come along, madam. I think you will find the Breakfast Room much cozier," she said, leading Hermione through a door at the end of the room, near the fireplace.

The Breakfast Room was, indeed, much cozier. A welcoming circular table and eight chairs sat near a marble fireplace. The room was warm and elegant, decorated in rich tones of red and gold. Large windows at the far end of the room looked out onto the lawns behind the estate. Hermione noticed they were a story above the ground. She questioned Norris, who explained that the house had been built on a slope, so the level she had entered was the first floor, with a ground floor below them that housed the kitchens, laundry, and servants' quarters.

From the Breakfast Room they entered the adjacent Drawing Room. It was elegantly appointed with welcoming seating and warm fabrics. This room, Norris explained, was used to entertain formal company. Mitzi next led Hermione into the oval Music Room. Oak paneling covered the walls and nicely accented the muted purple hues that decorated the room. A grand piano took up one corner of the room. Exiting through a large stone archway, Hermione found herself back in the Entrance Hall, facing the front doors. Norris led the way down a long corridor directly to her right. The spacious corridor (or Portrait Gallery, as Norris called it) was wide and airy. Arched French doors opened from the gallery onto an expansive balcony, the glass panels allowing light to shine in. Along the interior wall of the gallery hung an impressive collection of portraits. Gold gilt frames housed the magically moving images of what she assumed were Snape's ancestors. As she passed, the portrait occupants glanced down at her curiously. Some strained to get a better view while others sniffed haughtily in her direction. Two more fireplaces lined the interior wall of the portrait gallery.

"Every Prince since the 13th century is immortalized in portrait here," Norris explained. "Someday you and Master Snape shall be too." Hermione stifled a shudder at the thought of her portrait-self hanging next to Snape's for eternity.

Carved walnut double doors waited at the end of the gallery. Norris paused momentarily at the door. "Master Snape was very insistent that you see this room, Madam. He seemed to think you would quite enjoy it." Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. _Oh dear_, she thought. _What is he up to? _Flinging open the doors, Norris ushered her inside. Hermione's jaw dropped.

She was standing in a library. Not just a library; the most magnificent library she had ever seen. The library at Hogwarts had always amazed her, but there was no comparison to the room she now stood in. The library was full of dark wood and reached two stories tall. Ornately carved bookshelves wrapped around the room. A small spiral staircase allowed access to the second floor of the library, which wrapped itself around the edges of the balcony with scrolling iron railing. The center of the room featured a massive fireplace, around which warm burgundy chairs and sofas were arranged. Hermione approached the bookshelves reverently; allowing her hand to trail along the spines of the leather bound tomes. A paneled wooden door was slightly ajar in one corner of the room. "Where does that go?" Hermione inquired.

Mitzi's eyes widened. "Oh!" she squeaked. "That is Master Snape's study." She leaned in closely to Hermione, beckoning her down. Hermione leaned down so her ear was near the elf's face. "I wouldn't go in there, young Madam," Mitzi whispered conspiratorially. "Master Snape does not like people in his study." Her face was grave.

Hermione straightened. "Oh. Thank you, Mitzi," she replied.

...

After the library, Norris led her back to the Entrance Hall and toward the stone staircase. Glancing up as she approached, Hermione was shocked by the beauty of the elaborate railing that circled up and above her head four stories high. One massive chandelier hung from the very top of the ceiling some forty feet in the air. It dropped down in four consecutive circles, one for each floor. Each circle glowed with magically lit candles. The staircase was encased within a tower with tall, narrow windows looking out over the sloping front lawn. Hermione followed Mitzi and Norris slowly up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, the trio stepped through another set of stone archways into a casual sitting room. The family, Norris explained, used the second-floor living hall when there were no guests to be formally entertained in the downstairs Drawing Room and Music Room. Hermione nodded. This long room was much simpler and she found herself thinking of the drawing room at her parents' home. Her heart panged at the thought. _What would they think of me, here, the _lady_ of a great house, with a husband who intends to abuse my body and control my life? Would they prefer death for their only daughter, rather than the fate that awaits her tonight? _Snape's words hissed in her mind again, contrasting harshly with the welcoming comfort of the drawing room. _I cannot wait to spread those legs of yours and fuck you into submission. _She shuddered.

Sensing her discomfort, Mitzi patted her hand reassuringly. "I suppose you are wanting to see the rooms that are yours now, Madam. Follow me." Mitzi led her around the corner of the drawing room and down a corridor.

"Your chambers are connected to Master Snape's through a sitting room. You each have a private bath. This is Master Snape's chamber," Norris explained, opening a carved walnut door. Hermione entered nervously. _Snape sleeps here_, she thought to herself. She had expected a dark room with black fabrics, but was pleasantly surprised to find herself in a warm chamber with large windows decorated with greys and reds. A large four-poster bed with red curtains facing the windows, raised slightly on a dais. A settee, table and chairs in matching fabrics were scattered comfortably around the room. The room was masculine but not cold. Marble panels decorated the walls. Curious, she stepped closer. Examining one of the faces, she realized they were all the profiles of Roman emperors. _Oh, right. The naming thing; makes sense. _A small door slightly ajar near the bed revealed a bathroom. _So the bat of the dungeons doesn't really hang from a hook to sleep. Ron would have been amused to hear that._ Shaking thoughts of her friends out of her mind, she followed Norris across the room and through a door discretely hidden in a corner.

The Walnut Sitting Room (each room has a name in stately homes, Narcissa had explained) was a long room lined with wood panels and had an elaborately carved plaster ceiling. Twin fireplaces anchored each end of the room. The room was cozy and inviting. Hermione allowed herself to imagine curling up near the fireplace with one of the many volumes from the library downstairs. The thought gave her great comfort.

At last, she entered her bedroom through a door at the opposite end of the sitting room from the one she had entered. She stood in a large oval room with lustrous gold fabric lining the walls. The room was in a tower at the western facing back of the estate, Norris explained, which accounted for the many tall windows decorating the space. The cream molding on the windows and ceiling contrasted beautifully with the rich gold walls. A half-tester bed sat on a dais. The bed was covered with rich purple and gold brocade. The fabric was repeated on a small divan and pair of chairs near the white marble fireplace; a large mirror crowned the mantle. A small walnut writing desk occupied one corner, next to a cheval mirror encased in gold. Another gold mirror atop a carved wooden vanity sat near the bed.

A curtained archway led into a short corridor that housed two bright white doors. The first opened into a marble bathroom. The sunken tub was nearly as large as the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts and a floor-to-ceiling window offered views of the hills beyond the estate. The second door revealed an expansive closet. Her clothes, shoes, and accessories had been neatly unpacked.

Hermione walked back into the room, surveying it slowly. Finally, her eyes stopped at the bed. She shivered.

...

The rest of the second floor held a suite of guest rooms with private bathrooms, as did much of the third floor. There were so many bedrooms that Hermione could not keep them straight. Each had a name, which Norris had explained in painstaking detail. Some were named for a celebrated witch or wizard who had once occupied the room, while others where named after a piece of art or feature of the room. After the seemingly endless parade of rooms, Norris and Mitzi eyed each other carefully and led her to a corridor on the southern wing of the third floor. Norris cleared his throat nervously as they entered the hallway; "This is the children's wing, Madam Snape." _Children?_

The corridor was wide and spacious, brightly lit and was home to four elaborately carved doors. Opening the first, Norris escorted her in. It was a lovely room decorated in soft hues of pink, gold, and white. The room was curved and had broad windows that looked out over the magnificent grounds. A small bed anchored one wall. Hermione stared at the small bed in confusion for a moment before a thought struck her. _Oh, of course. This is a child's room. Why is this designed for a child if there are no children here currently?_ She looked at Mitzi, the question in her eyes.

"This room is traditionally occupied by the eldest Prince daughter," Mitzi explained. "This room belonged to Master Snape's mother when she was a girl." Hermione nodded. _Snape's uncle must have left the room intact, as has he_. "It is a very sweet room," she said hesitantly. Mitzi and Norris beamed. The next two rooms where similar in style to the first room, save for the colors. One was decorated in rich purples, the other in deep greens. Each had a child's bed and large windows.

Finally, they stood before the door of the final room in the corridor. "I think you will find this room especially useful, Madam Snape," Mitzi said slyly. Opening the door, she shooed Hermione inside. This room was larger than the last three. A corner room, it had spacious windows on two sides draped in heavy gold and cream fabric. The walls were covered in a swirling gold and white pattern. A large bed anchored one wall, unlike the child's beds of the previous rooms. Hermione wondered silently about this, until her eyes swept to the other corner of the room. Her stomach dropped when she realized what she was staring at. _A cradle. _She was standing in a _nursery. _

Hermione's head spun. She felt heat crawling up her throat and felt her chest tightening. She couldn't breath. Suddenly, it felt as if all the air had gone out of the room. The facts she had been attempting to ignore for the last month rushed into her mind clearly. _Heirs. That meant… babies. _Hermione was a bright witch, but somehow that particular realization had escaped her until now. She had been thinking of children in the abstract, not as real, tangible beings that she would have to conceive… _with Snape. _

Mitzi had lowered Hermione into a chair before she realized what was happening. Norris was prattling on obliviously. "Every Prince lady for the last two centuries has delivered in this room," he explained proudly. "A lovely room for confinement and recovery, if I do say so myself."

Hermione felt nauseous.

"This room was designed by the late Madam Rebecca Prince, who delivered her first child in 1781 during – Master!" Norris cut himself off, bowing deeply. Spinning around, Hermione turned toward the door. Snape, clad in his standard billowing black robes, stood broadly in the doorway. He looked at Hermione predatorily.

"_Leave us!"_ he barked sharply, never breaking his eye contact with Hermione. Norris and Mitzi scuttled out of the room quickly, closing the door behind them. Once the door shut, Snape stalked towards Hermione. Gripping her arm roughly, he pulled her up. His face was contorted with anger as he leaned threateningly close to her face.

"What's the matter, _wife_?" he hissed in his terrifying, low baritone. "Not pleased with your new home? Perhaps you would have preferred a grimy Burrow instead? Or the Malfoy dungeons?" His eyes were dangerously black.

"N-no, it's not that," she stuttered nervously. "I'm just… overwhelmed. By all of… _this,_" she whispered as she gestured around the room.

Snape snorted. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I gave you that ring. You are here for one purpose. _Only one._ I assumed an insufferable know-it-all like you would have an understanding of the basics of reproduction and birth. Surely you expected this?"

"I _do_ understand the basics, thank you very much," she replied hotly. _How dare he insult my intelligence?_ Her temper flared. "I am _overwhelmed_ by the reality of the situation. I did not expect to be forced into motherhood at _18_ by my former _professor_."

His face contorted with rage. "Insolent child! You will pay for your impertinence." He grabbed her hair roughly as he pulled her face close to his. Leaning down to her ear, he began to whisper. _"Should I fuck you here? On _this_ bed?"_ He jerked her head around to face the bed against the far wall. _"How erotic it would be to fuck you on this bed, the bed where you will give birth to my heirs. I wonder which will cause you to scream louder?"_ Hermione whimpered, tears filling her eyes. "Please…" she started, but he quickly covered her mouth with his hand. _"No. I have heard enough from you, Madam Snape."_ He bent momentarily and swiftly picked Hermione up into his arms. She struggled against him as he crossed the room and deposited her on the bed. He did not release her, keeping her pinned down against the soft mattress as he looked into her eyes. She turned her face away, but his hand was once again in her hair, pulling her to face him. _"Your impudent little comments will not be tolerated. By the time I finish with you, you will wish I treated you as well as I did in class."_ He began ripping open the buttons of her jacket.

Hermione's mind raced. _This isn't happening. Professor Snape is not doing this. He is not my husband. This is a dream. I'm going to wake up. _Her logical mind knew it was not a dream, however. She had to think quickly. What had Narcissa said? "_I believe that if you are kind and gentle with him, he will reciprocate that to the best of his ability."_ Regardless of what Snape thought, she _was_ the brightest witch of her age. And that brightness extended far beyond knowledge of books. She could manipulate him, as Narcissa had so subtly suggested to her. Steeling her resolve, she gently reached up and touched his face, looking deeply into his eyes. He looked up sharply. "I'm _sorry_," she said softly. "That was terribly rude of me. You have been very kind. Norris told me that you specifically instructed him to show me the library. It was so beautiful. The entire estate is… just breathtaking."

Snape looked as though she had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. The fire went out of his eyes and he looked down at his hands, which had been ripping apart the buttons on her plum colored jacket. He brought the edges of the jacket back together and sat up stiffly. Hermione did not move. He looked away from her for a few moments before he spoke. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet she almost missed it. "I had hoped you would like it."

Hermione considered his words. _What was that in his voice? Is he looking for my…. approval? Surely not_. Sitting up slowly, as not to startle him, she reached out and rested one hand lightly against his. He looked away, but left his hand under hers.

She thought carefully before she began to speak again. "You saved my life, sir. I am indebted to you. I know that. This is not what I wanted out of life, but I am resigned to the facts of the world. I understand what it is that you want from me. I will give you children. But sir, it has been so overwhelming. If you could find it in your heart to be patient with me, I promise I will do my best to be a dutiful wife."

Snape nodded slowly. "I am not a patient man, madam. However, I will consider your request." He rose stiffly from the bed and stalked toward the door. "Dinner will be served in the Banquet Hall at 7 o'clock sharp. Do not be late."

Hermione's voice stopped him as he tried to exit the room. "Sir?"

"Madam?"

"Well, um, I'm terribly embarrassed to say that I… Frankly, I don't know what to call you now, sir." Hermione blushed again. Clearly, he had not liked being called _professor. _

Snape cleared his throat. He turned toward her, but would not meet her eyes. "You may call me Severus in private, and Master Snape or Sir in public," he said lowly. He nodded and turned towards the door once more.

"Thank you… Severus," she tried cautiously. "Please call me Hermione."

He paused for a fraction of a second before billowing out the door.

_Severus,_ she thought. _It's not much, but it's a start. _


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five – First Night

Hermione found her way back to the chamber that was now hers. She was surprised to find the small house-elf, Bitzy, already bustling around the room.

"Madam! Thank goodness you are here. Bitzy must dress you for dinner!"

Hermione smiled at the small creature. "Thank you, Bitzy. I am very glad to have you here." Narcissa had told her the best way to win the affections of her elves was simple words of approval. Hermione supposed that it would not do to have all the Prince Park house-elves running from her in fear of the clothes she knit, like the Hogwarts elves had since her fourth year.

With Bitzy's help, she bathed quickly. Her hair and makeup were touched up with Bitzy's magic. She had been dressed in one of her new gowns from her bridal trousseau. It was a Grecian style dress in a deep plum, with flowing chiffon gathered in thick straps over her shoulders. The fabric extended down her bodice in a modest but flattering fashion, exposing her toned arms and the gentle swell of her breasts. The dress's skirt, flowing chiffon that extended down her legs, was floor length. She touched her hair nervously and turned to exit the room.

She was startled by a knock on the door that led into the sitting room. Turning, she crossed to the door and opened it. Severus stood stiffly before her, looking quite dashing in black dress robes. In his hands, he held a large antique chest.

"May I?" he queried, wishing to enter her room.

She stepped back quickly. "Of course, please come in."

He walked toward her vanity and set the chest down gently. He turned to Hermione. "As you are now Madam Snape and Lady of Prince Park, these belong to you." He flicked his wand and the chest opened. Hermione approached cautiously.

The chest displayed rows of priceless jewels, nestled against dark velvet. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, and countless other gems glistened brightly in the case.

Severus shifted awkwardly. "I thought you might like to wear something tonight."

"Oh! Oh, um, yes! That would be… lovely."

She lifted a hand and gingerly caressed the jewels. The tiara she had worn that morning was in the case, nestled carefully against the black velvet. Her eyes were drawn to a pair of delicate amethyst drop earrings. She picked them up carefully. Her eyes went to her husband's, who nodded his approval. She put the earrings on daintily before evaluating herself in the mirror. _Hmm… perhaps a necklace_. She looked back down into the case and found a simple string of large pearls. _Very wifely, _she thought silently. She picked up the necklace and clasped it around her neck.

She turned to face Severus, unsure of how to express her gratitude. "You are very generous," she said with a smile.

He frowned back at her. "No. These are yours by right."

"Thank you, regardless." She would not be deterred by his self-depreciating words.

"Shall I escort you to dinner?"

"That would be very nice," she smiled again.

He offered his arm and she took it. He looked down at her smiling face and hesitated once more.

"There is one other thing…" he started to speak.

"Oh?"

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wand, examining it closely.

"Vine wood, 10 ¾, dragon heartstring. I believe this wand belongs to you." He opened his hand, offering it to her.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Why would you give me my wand back?"

"You _are _a witch, are you not? I assumed you would like to have it back. As I have mentioned to you before, it would be pointless of you to attempt to run away. Your ring is irremovable and will immediately alert me to your location, no matter where you are. I suppose you could try to use an Unforgivable on me, but my mind is too strong for the Imperious and I doubt you have the stomach for the Cruciatus or the Killing Curse." He shrugged. "I like my chances. You will find that the vow of loyalty you made today to bind us together will render any hexes or curses you fling at me exceptionally weak. Your magic will not allow you to harm me purposefully, just as my magic will not allow me to abandon you or leave you vulnerable or unprotected. The vows are binding in many ways."

Hermione considered the new information. She had not realized that her magic and his would respond to the vows so literally. _Of course_, she realized. _That's why loyalty was chosen as my vow. I cannot hurt him, even if I tried._ Feigning indifference to this new information, Hermione accepted her wand with an expression of gratitude.

Taking his arm again, he escorted her out of her chamber into the main corridor, then through the second-floor sitting room and down the stairs. As they walked together, she noticed how nice he smelled. Clean, but slightly spicy.

As they walked, he questioned her about her thoughts on the estate. Tomorrow, he promised, she could see the ground floor where the kitchens were. "There are a few things on the ground level you may find… amusing," he hinted vaguely. Hermione's curiosity was aroused, but she did not question him further. He also assured her that she could see the fourth floor and the grounds soon.

Arriving at the Banquet Hall, she found two places set at one end of the table. He helped her into her seat and took his place at the head of the table. _Of course_, she thought sardonically. _He would sit at the head of this ridiculous table_. Concealing her thoughts, she smiled sweetly; trying to appear thrilled to be seated at his right hand. The table was set formally and a wine glass sat to her right. She had never drunk much, only recently being of age. _This is a good time to start, I guess._ Norris appeared near her elbow, bowing deeply.

"Master," he said. "Would you care for a bottle of wine from the cellar?"

Severus considered thoughtfully. "Yes, a Sauvignon Blanc."

"Very good, sir." Norris disappeared with a faint pop.

"The estate has a small vineyard," Severus explained conversationally. "A small team of house-elves makes the wine. I have always found elf-made wine to be far superior to other forms, and I think you will find the wine produced here to be quite pleasing."

Hermione beamed at him. If she could keep him amiable and conversational, perhaps they could live harmoniously. _At this point, I'm willing to do anything to avoid an assault like this afternoon._

* * *

Their first dinner together was somewhat uncomfortable, though not unpleasant. Hermione realized that, though they had known each other for seven years, they were virtually strangers. She deliberately avoided mentioning anything about their time together at Hogwarts. _That _had sent him into a rage earlier and she would not risk it now. She kept the conversation light, asking about the estate, the grounds, and his family. She learned that he had been the head of the Prince family for nine years. His uncle had died without issue, leaving the house to him. _I wonder where the estate would go if _he _died without children. Perhaps that is the root of this obsession with heirs._ Severus was fairly forthcoming in his conversation. His mother, a Prince by birth, had married Tobias Snape, a Muggle. He glossed quickly over the details of his parents' marriage and his childhood, only mentioning that he had lived in the Muggle world until his letter from Hogwarts arrived. He had little contact with his Prince relations until after the first Wizarding War had ended. His uncle, who had reached a great age without a wife or children, had contacted him and encouraged him to visit the estate. He spoke very fondly of his uncle and grew very quiet after explaining his death. Hermione had patted his hand gently.

Easily the best part about the meal had been the superb food and wine. The pan roasted chicken and summer vegetables paired perfectly with the wine Severus had chosen. She complimented him on his choice and the quality, which earned her a mutter of thanks. _He seems to enjoy approval… That could be useful. _After finishing their meal and most of the wine, he had stood once more and offered his arm. Accepting graciously, she allowed him to lead her back up the stairs. They entered the sitting room that connected their two chambers. He released her arm and shifted uncomfortably.

"I will leave you to prepare for bed. I shall join you shortly," he said brusquely, looking away from her.

Hermione's breath caught. Fighting her rising anxiety, she nodded slowly and turned toward her room.

Bitzy was waiting to help her undress. Her bridal peignoir lay on the bed. Like all her lingerie, Narcissa had chosen it. It was white lace, almost transparent. Bitzy helped Hermione into the gown and fixed her hair. Hermione donned the matching robe and went into her bathroom, performing her nightly ablutions. Bitzy lowered the lights as Hermione exited the bathroom and climbed into the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. Bitzy smoothed the duvet around her.

Bitzy looked around the room conspiratorially before leaning down to whisper in Hermione's ear. "Just call my name after Master Snape leaves. I'll come back and run your bath and tend to you." Hermione smiled weakly at her. Bitzy patted her arm, gave her a most pitying look, and disappeared.

Hermione was finally alone with her thoughts. The day had been a whirl of emotions, fear and anxiety chief among them. Yet somehow, some small part of her had enjoyed speaking with Severus so pleasantly. It had been a relief to see him so nearly kind to her. Although she hated herself for playing along as a simpering idiot, she reminded herself that she was going to do what it took to stay alive. _Even if that means seducing Severus Snape._

She had known the basic mechanics of human sexuality for years. Looking through her parents' library one rainy afternoon in the summer after her second year, she had discovered a book on human reproduction. Her interest had turned to horror as she had read the detailed clinical description of what going in where. She had never progressed beyond a few heated kisses with boys. A few Muggle boys she had seen during the summers away from school, and Viktor Krum. None had ever spoken to her so harshly or treated her as roughly as Severus had.

_Severus_. It felt so strange to call him that. Oddly, it made her feel better to think of him that way. If she could focus on him as Severus, not Snape, maybe it would make the coming events easier to stomach. _Don't think of him as Professor Snape. Don't think of him as Snape the traitor. Not as Voldemort's most trusted servant. Think of him as Severus – your husband. The man who saved your life. The man who will father your children. _Her stomach dropped again. Her silent reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door leading into the sitting room they shared. _This is it_.

"Come in," she managed to squeak.

He entered silently, wearing a green dressing gown. She met his eyes and quickly looked away. She focused on the details of the fabric decorating the top of the bed canopy as she felt the mattress shift under his weight. He climbed into the bed and lay inches from her. She stole a glance in his direction – and realized he was shirtless. _Oh, Merlin. Help me. _

Her breath began to quicken as the she felt him shift again. He turned to his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Hermione." His voice was soft and somewhat sensual. She shuddered in spite of herself.

"Look at me." That voice, which had sounded so derisive and cruel before, now sounded… sexy? _No, I cannot possibly think his voice is sexy_.

She looked over at him cautiously. Her caution turned to surprise when she saw the fire burning in his eyes. She gasped softly.

Her gasp caused the corners of his mouth to quirk up slightly. Not quite a smile, but the hint of one. He slowly brought his hand to her cheek and caressed her face. She continued to look deep into his eyes. _Oh Merlin, this is it. I'm about to sleep with Professor Snape. No_, she caught herself. _Severus. _Summoning all the Gryffindor courage she had, she gave him a small smile.

Her smile encouraged him. He leaned over her swiftly, taking her lips in a kiss. He kissed her softly then pulled back, gauging her response. Finding no resistance, he caught her mouth again, his tongue running along her bottom lip, coaxing her lips apart. Her surprise at his kiss caused her to open her mouth in surprise, and he seized his opportunity. Plunging his tongue into her mouth, he teased her tongue ever-so-slightly with the tip of his.

The kisses she had exchanged with the Muggle boys and Viktor Krum all those summers ago had never felt like this. Those kisses had been hesitant and gentle, but this was something else entirely. Severus kissed her like a man; a man who knew what he wanted.

Her mind raced as she began to think about what was happening. Fighting her very nature, she chided herself. _Just let go, for tonight. Don't overthink. Just feel the moment._ Her decision made, she gentle used her tongue to tease his back.

The moan that escaped from him as she did so made her stomach flutter. It was incredibly empowering to know she was arousing to him. He responded by snaking his hand up her stomach to her breast. He cupped her breast gently, and then slowly began to pull down the lace of the peignoir. Find her nipple, he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger gently.

She moaned against his lips. He broke the kiss, pulling back and looking at her. The shocked expression he wore almost made her giggle. Her lips were parted and she breathed heavily from the excitement of his kiss. Sensing his hesitation, she gave him another small smile.

In an instant, he was on her again. This time he covered her body with his, kissing her fully and deeply. She felt his body against hers, strong and lean. He wore only his silk boxers and she blushed as she felt the tangible proof of his arousal. His erection pressed against her thigh, hard and insistent.

He pulled away from her lips and held himself above her. He smiled devilishly before leaning down and taking her nipple in his mouth. Hermione felt a pull on her naval and thought for a moment she was traveling by Portkey. She quickly analyzed what she was feeling, unsure of what to name it. _Desire? Surely not. _

He caressed her nipple lavishly with his tongue, rolling the sensitive bud around his mouth. Hermione's hands flew to her own mouth has another moan escaped her lips. Severus stopped his ministrations to pull her hands away from her mouth roughly.

"No," he said, he voice thick with desire. "No, I want to hear you." She blushed furiously, but did not argue.

He moved to the other nipple, repeating his gentle teasing until it harden to a stiff bud in his mouth. Severus groaned and pulled himself back up to her lips. He kissed her fiercely, his tongue plunging the depths of her mouth. She reciprocated. His hand continued to tease her nipple. He suddenly squeezed one and moaned as her body inadvertently bucked against his. Leaving her lips, he moved to kiss her neck, driving her wild with these unexplored feelings of desire and arousal. He moved up to nibble on her ear as one sly hand snaked down between her thighs, slipping under her peignoir. She shuddered as he touched her soft curls.

"You are full of surprises, little witch," he growled into her ear. There was no denying the truth; his voice _was _sexy. When he wasn't terrorizing her, it was captivating.

"Are you already wet for me, little wife?" His voice was hot on her ear. She bit her lip nervously as he continued, not sure what he wanted. "Let's see, shall we?"

His hand touched her folds softly, teasing them apart. Her body felt as though it would melt onto the floor. She had never felt so relaxed and so eager at the same time. Her body responded to his touches. He felt her wetness and inhaled sharply.

"_Fuck._" He sounded more than pleased.

"I'm going to taste you now," he hissed into her ear. She closed her eyes as he moved down her body, coming to rest between her legs. This was most certainly _not _in the book on human reproduction she had read. She understood the concept of orgasms and had touched herself cautiously before, but nothing like this. This was uncharted territory. He nuzzled her thighs, enjoying the softness of her skin. He touched her heated bud, teasing it gently as he had her nipple. He was rewarded with a loud moan from Hermione.

Slowly, he began to lap at her core. He tormented her, alternatively swirling and sucking until she was sure her body would explode. She was standing at the peak, about to fall over the edge, when he stopped. Moving back up her body, he kissed her lips again. Her tongue tasted her own essence on his lips and she moaned in arousal. He pulled away and looked at her critically. She squirmed under him; desperate for the release she was so close to. He positioned himself at her entrance and stilled, holding himself above her.

"Look at me, witch," he said gravely. She met his eyes, suddenly unsure of what was happening.

A flicker of guilt crosses his face as he continued. "I will not use a spell to prevent your pain. The Dark Lord will demand to see this and I must be able to show him the truth. I am only able to keep you alive by assuring him of your submission. _Please_ understand, Hermione. I want you, but I _need _an heir. I know you are young, but I cannot wait." He looked down at her, his torment evident in his eyes.

Hermione felt a surge of pity for him and spoke before she realized what she was saying. "I want you, Severus." Relief flashed across his face. Before she could say anymore, he plunged into her wetness. He broke her maidenhead with one thrust. Her body coursed with pain and she cried out, desperate to get him off of her, out of her. She had not anticipated this much pain or how large he would be. Every fiber of her being cried out for her to rid herself of this intruder.

He lay still above her, his eyes closed tightly. Remembering himself, he began to stroke her hair and whisper softly into her ear. "_Relax, little wife, relax. It will hurt more if you struggle._"

After a few minutes, Hermione's breathing returned to normal. She looked up at him angrily, knowing what would have to happen now. He would continue. It would hurt more.

She was surprised when she felt his hand snake between them and began to rub the swollen bud at the apex of her thighs. The arousal she had felt before his intrusion came coursing back, heating her blood. She moaned softly. He pumped gently within her, sucking a breath through his teeth as he relished her tightness. Her knees, which he had parted earlier, shifted instinctually, angling herself against him. He slipped deeper within her.

Hermione opened her eyes at the sound of his shocked moan. The tattered self-control he had been holding onto slipped away and he thrust into her harshly. She gasped in surprise, but he was too far-gone to care. He thrust again and again, removing his hand from between them and handling his body so his body rubbed against her core. This time, the pain was tinged with pleasure as he drove himself deep within her. He stroked into her quickly, his hands tightly gripping the sheet they lay on. After a few more thrusts, the pain began to ebb away, leaving her once again on the precipice of pleasure. He felt her walls clenching around him and tugged on her nipple. He leaned down and hissed hotly into her ear: "_Come for me, witch."_ One hard thrust and she tumbled over the edge, shaking and quivering as her body arched in pleasure. She heard loud cries and realized with a shock the sounds were coming from her. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she struggled to come back to her senses. When she regained control of her mental faculties, she opened her eyes. Severus was staring at her, unmoving.

His face betrayed the awe and pleasure he had taken from her orgasm. His face was flushed with pride, knowing he had simultaneously taken her virginity and made her climax for the first time. He growled dangerously and bent down to nip the soft skin of her shoulder, causing her to squirm beneath him again. He began to thrust slowly, but this time kept his head near her ear.

"You are mine now, little wife. I have had you completely. So slick, so wet. Your virgin blood and your wetness from your own excitement. Did you ever think the 'greasy git' of the dungeons would bring you such toe-curling pleasure?" His voice was velvet in her ear. Despite the harshness of his words, she felt her body respond desirously. She moved against him as he thrust into her.

"My wanton little wife, how naughty you are. Does it turn you on, knowing how much control I have over you? Do it make your little quim all wet knowing that I am going to fuck you over and over until you give me a son?" Her body bucked once more.

"Mmm, yes, that does make you hot. I can feel your wetness surging every time I whisper lascivious things in your ear. Do you like the thought of me filling you up? Does it excite you to know that I'm going to pump all my seed into that fertile little womb of yours?"

Her damned, traitorous body. She bucked wildly against him. His words were terrifying yet erotic. He was so in control of her in that moment. She, who spent all her life organizing and planning, enjoyed this erotic loss of control. Hermione grasped his arms to anchor her body as she moved against him.

"Tell me you want it, witch. Tell me what you want," he hissed.

"Severus, please," she moaned against him.

"Please what, Madam Snape?"

"Please… please fuck me." Her face blushed but her body responded to her own wantonness.

"What else do you want, madam?" He wanted to hear her say it. She knew what he wanted, but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to say it.

"Please, Severus… I want to have your child. Oh, Severus, please!"

Severus thrust into her frantically. He was a man possessed. Hermione came again, bucking wildly against his hips as he sought his own release. He found it moments after hers; shooting deeply into her in hot, wet spurts. He grunted her name as he came.

He collapsed on top of her, utterly spent. They lay still for several moments, breathing heavily. Hermione was surprised to find that she enjoyed his weight on top of her. She felt so safe, lying in his arms like that, still joined together. She winced as he pulled out of her, still sore despite her eager participation. Rolling off the bed, he leaned over and picked up a small item he had laid on the nightstand when he entered. Taking it in his hand, he sat up next to her in bed, leaning against the headboard. She sat up gingerly.

"What is that?" she asked softly. Somehow, despite the intimacy they had just shared, she still felt nervous around him.

"It's a protection amulet. It's been in my family for centuries. Most pureblood families have some sort of tradition involving the consummation of marriages… specifically, involving virgin blood." He looked away from her. Hermione put her hand gently on his arm. When he looked back at her, she smiled reassuringly.

"Narcissa mentioned something about that. She said each family is very secretive about what theirs is, but that most do something."

"Yes, it's one of the closest guarded secrets of a pureblood family. Most, from what I understand, involve some form of protection. Blood magic is very powerful, and this type of blood is no exception. Giving this blood, willingly, as you have, creates an extremely powerful type of magic."

"May I see?" Severus held the item out to Hermione. She took it into her hand, rubbing it gently. It was small, circular amulet. A beautiful amethyst stone was centered in a piece of platinum. The platinum edges were carved with Latin words. Turning the amulet over, the examined the back. The Prince crest was etched into the smooth surface of the piece. Severus spoke again: "This is the Prince Amulet. The legend goes that this was the stone from the ring given by the first Prince to his beloved. After his death, she created the amulet to protect her children. Supposedly, the amulet will keep the child who wears it from death. I cannot speak to that, but I have studied it closely. It does seem to have strong protection properties."

"Fascinating," she murmured. "How does it work?"

"Once the stone is bathed in a mixture of our… essence, it will protect any child born of that union who wears it. It will be yours to wear until our child is born. The idea is that the love you feel for the child you carry will be absorbed by the amulet and provide additional protection. May I?" He gestured between her legs. She nodded and parted her knees silently. He bent down and brushed the stone lightly against her sore opening. She hissed slightly.

He murmured gently to her, but continued his quest. Once he was satisfied, he sat up and handed the amulet to her. It glowed warmly in her hand and the Latin inscriptions were ablaze, as if lighted from behind. She examined it closely, innately curious about anything magic. She handed it back to Severus. Grabbing his wand, he conjured a silver chain. He slipped the chain through a small loop on the amulet and slid the necklace over her head. She pulled her hair out from under the chain and the amulet rested between her breasts. Severus looked at it intently.

"This is the most precious possession I have. It provides protection, but it also has a secondary purpose. Ownership of this estate and all Prince family holdings are connected to this stone. No one can take this land from a blood relative who possesses this," he said quietly.

"So even if the Ministry… or the Dark Lord… wanted to claim Prince Park, it would be impossible? Because of this?" she inferred.

Severus nodded darkly. "Yes. Should anything happen to me, this will guarantee your continued right to the property. The amulet now considers you a Prince… by blood. It guarantees that our children will always be protected from those who wish to separate them from their ancestral home. When we have a son, this will be his. It is his protection and his birthright." Severus picked the stone up and gripped it tightly.

"Severus…" Hermione started, but trailed off.

"Yes?" He dropped the stone and looked up at her.

"Well, it's just that… you keep talking about a son. But what if we have a daughter?"

Severus looked at her curiously. "Then we would have a daughter. What of it?"

"Could she not inherit the estate? Why do you need a son to have an heir?"

Severus shook his head softly. "No, little wife, she could not inherit the estate. The Wizarding World is several hundred years behind the Muggle one when it comes to matters of succession. We are a patriarchal society at heart, and that patriarchy will only grow in power now that the Dark Lord has risen." He lifted her chin, looking deeply into her eyes. "Don't fear, Hermione. I have no intention of treating a daughter less than I would treat a son. I will love any child we have. But I _must_ have a son. We will keep trying until we have a boy. You are so young. We have plenty of time." He leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead.

He lay back against the pillows and drew her into his arms. He gently stroked her back, as she curled around him. He sighed deeply before he spoke again. "I want a large family, Hermione. I was very lonely growing up. I do not want that for my progeny. However… after we have two sons I will release you from any conjugal obligations. I will not force you into these liaisons once their primary purpose is satisfied."

Hermione nodded into his chest, unsure of what to say.

Severus held her hand tightly as he spoke. "I need you to promise me, Hermione, that you will not do anything to impede our having children. I know you are capable; Narcissa's elf ran the tests on you weeks ago while you were bathing. Promise me, on your loyalty to me as your husband, that you will not use magic or other means to prevent having a child. _Please._" His voice was desperate.

Hermione considered his words. For the first time, she thought about the motivations behind his request. _He came into this inheritance unexpectedly and now he seems so desperate to hold on to it. How old is he? 38? 40? It must have been difficult to go through the war as a spy, knowing how uncertain his life was. I suppose if I faced death every day, I would crave a little slice of immortality. At least his interest in immortality is heirs, not horcruxes. Or perhaps it was the uncle he watched die without family or heirs; maybe that is what he fears most of all. _

She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "Severus, I promise I will not use any means, magical or otherwise, to prevent myself from having a child. You have my word on our marriage."

He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. "Thank you, Hermione. That means more to me than you know." He sat up and extracted himself from her embrace.

"Goodnight, little wife. I will send Bitzy to draw you a bath and bring you a pain-reliving potion. Sweet dreams," he said softly, donning his robe and slipping away from her bed. He was almost to the door when she spoke.

"Severus?" He turned to look at her. She spoke softly. "_Thank you_; for everything. In this moment, I am happier than I have any right to be." The corners of his lips tugged upwards for a moment, and he was gone.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six – Settling In

Hermione felt small fingers shaking her. "_Madam! Madam, please get up!" _A small voice was pleading with her.

Groaning, Hermione opened her eyes and rolled over. Sunlight streamed in brightly through the open windows. She looked down into Bitzy's widen eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Madam must get up! Madam must not be late for breakfast with Master Snape! He does not tolerate tardiness!" The young elf looked fearful. Hermione rubbed her eyes, sat up, and yawned deeply.

"What time is it, Bitzy?"

"Quarter 'til eight, madam."

.

"And what time is breakfast?"

"Eight o'clock," Bitzy answered fearfully.

_Shite! _Hermione launched herself out of bed and hurried toward the bathroom. Pain shot through her as she remembered her soreness from the night before. Groaning, she gingerly sunk into the chair nearest to her.

Bitzy was by her side in a flash. "Madam! Are you ill?" Hermione waved her off. "I'll be fine. Can you fetch me another pain-reliving potion?"

Bitzy's eyes widen. She shook her head sadly. "No, Madam. Master Snape keeps those locked up." Hermione nodded. "Fine, Bitzy. Fetch Master Snape and tell him I need another one. Quickly, please." Bitzy disappeared as soon as she finished speaking.

As Hermione waited, her mind spun. Yesterday had been terrifying and overwhelming. _I'm married! To Snape! No, _Severus_… Severus. How strange. Narcissa was right, though. When I was kind to him, he was kind to me. I can't believe that I… we… he… _She blushed deeply, remembering his touch. _Oh Harry, Ron, please forgive me for this; for all of this. For not demanding death and for not fighting harder. For marrying the man who murdered Dumbledore. I promise to continue fighting in my own way. I swear it. But to fight, I have to live. The only way I will live is through agreeable nods and by giving him what he wants. _

A knock on the door into the sitting room startled her out of her reverie. "Come in!"

Severus entered with a vial in his hands. He approached her calmly. "How are you?"

"Umm… sore," she mumbled. Her blush deepened and she could not meet his eyes. He looked at her cautiously as he handed her the unstoppered vial.

He stood next to her quietly as she waited for the potion to take effect. Sensing the change, she stood carefully. _Much better, thank Merlin. _She looked up at him. "I'm sorry. I'm just unsure how to… act now. Last night was… surprising. This is new to me. Marriage is something I am mostly unfamiliar with."

His gaze softened at her words. He sat slowly next to her, clearing his throat as he began to speak. "You should act as you have since the Dark Lord's victory. You are a bright, kind girl. Even I can admit that. This is no great love match, and you shouldn't treat it as one. This is a marriage of purpose: your safety for my heir. _Quid pro quo_, if you will. Make no mistake, Hermione, I will not be the husband of your dreams. I will never be your gallant knight. But I will endeavor to protect you from harm. I will even endeavor to protect you from myself. You are remarkably talented at… disarming me. I am a harsh, unyielding man. I cannot promise to change that. To change that would threaten both of our lives. However, you have held up remarkably well thus far. You are alive: that is testament to your tenacity and cleverness."

Hermione considered his words carefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "This is not a world I ever expected to be living in."

Severus nodded. "Come, it is time for breakfast." He eyed her up and down. "I would suggest a more… modest outfit."

She looked down at the peignoir she was still wearing and laughed lightly. "I agree. I will change and join you shortly."

He sighed heavily. "You may change now and I will accompany you. I needn't remind you that I've already seen what you're hiding under that gown." He smirked at her smugly.

_Bastard. _She resisted the temptation to role her eyes.

* * *

After she had brushed her teeth and changed into one of her Narcissa-approved outfits, he had escorted her down to the Breakfast Room she had toured yesterday. The cozy room was light and airy. The three large windows at the end of the room were open, allowing a pleasant summer breeze to enter. The table was set for two and laden with fresh fruit, warm pastries, and hot cereal. Hermione sat and eagerly helped herself to porridge and blueberries. As she began to eat, a large tawny owl swept through the open window. The owl landed gracefully next to Severus, who retrieved a bundle of letters and the _Daily Prophet_ from its leg. He petted the owl absentmindedly as he spoke to Hermione.

"This is Mercury, my owl. Our owl, I suppose." He fed the owl a treat and shooed it away.

"Mercury?" she queried. "Why the obsession with Roman names?"

Severus narrowed his eyes and glared at her. "Tradition, Madam Snape. Do you have a problem with that?"

His retort tested her patience. "Not unless you decide to name my son _Caligula_," she replied hotly, returning her eyes to her porridge.

Raucous laughter filled the Breakfast Room. Hermione's eyes snapped up, shock written across her face. Severus' head was thrown back in laughter. He had a deep, hearty laugh that made her smile. He looked at her and smiled broadly. With the laughter and his smile, he looked so young. Not at all like the sullen Potions Master she had known at Hogwarts.

He chuckled as he spoke. "Not Caligula, then. I will concede that."

"_Thank you_," said Hermione pointedly. She thought for a moment. "I like Augustus, though."

Severus looked at her thoughtfully, before lowering his head to the morning paper. She had returned to her porridge when she heard him say, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I like that, too."

* * *

He had returned to his black coffee and dry toast before she worked up the nerve to ask about his plans for the fall. He had reacted so poorly to her mention of him as a professor yesterday and she was afraid to risk another confrontation such as that. She stared at him intently as his eyes swept over the paper.

"Severus? May I ask you a question?"

"Asking if you may ask a question, is, in fact, asking a question," he replied lazily, his eyes never leaving the paper.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Are you returning to Hogwarts in the fall?"

He kept his eyes on the paper. "No, I will not be returning to Hogwarts. I have tendered my resignation as Headmaster. I have, however, accepted a position as a member of the Board of Governors. I have no interest in continuing to teach dunderheads who have no talent or patience for potion making."

"Who will be Headmaster?"

"That is for the Dark Lord to decide. I have suggested Horace Slughorn. He is malleable enough to bend easily to the Dark Lord's will but neutral enough to encourage parents to allow their children to return to the school. I have supplied the Dark Lord with a list of names for a suitable replacement Potions Professor, as well. Hopefully he will heed my advice and give Slughorn the job."

"Oh. So what will you do, then?" Snape looked up and raised his eyebrows at her question.

"Hermione… you are aware that the Dark Lord has risen to power? And that I am, essentially, his second-in-command? And, in my own right, a Potions Master?"

She barely suppressed her eye roll this time. "Yes, I understand that."

"Well, that is your answer. Think of me as one of the mobsters from those Muggle movies. I'm very scary and very dangerous and we will not discuss what I do. It will make things simpler that way."

"I see," she replied carefully. "And what do I do, now?"

Severus snorted. "I'm sure there are plenty of _teas_ to attend. Narcissa will escort you to any pureblood household you wish to visit. Every pureblood family in Britain will welcome you graciously into their homes. You may go to Diagon Alley, but only if Narcissa escorts you. You are not to leave the estate alone. You may entertain here, if you wish. I do think you will find plenty here to amuse you."

Hermione glared at him. She did not appreciate him belittling her.

"I take it that is not the answer you expected," he drawled. "What did you expect to 'do now'?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I had hoped to complete my education at Hogwarts."

"Absolutely not!"Severus cried, outraged. "Have we not discussed at length your primary purpose here, madam?" _He only calls me madam when he's irritated,_ she noted.

"Erm, yes, I suppose so, but I thought that…" He raised his hand to silence her.

"What is your purpose here, Madam Snape?"

Hermione blushed fiercely but she did not reply.

"I'm waiting, _madam_." There was the surly Potions Master. His voice was back to the one she had heard hundreds of times during Potions. Hermione half expected him to take points from her house.

She mumbled inaudibly into her porridge.

"Pardon?" He smirked at her.

"To give you an heir," she spat at him.

"Precisely. Now, finish your breakfast and I will show you around the rest of the estate," he snapped.

Hermione fumed silently. After all his caresses and words of comfort and kindness last night, how could he slip so quickly back into his hateful ways? _I can't believe I was so intimate with the bloody bat of the dungeons. What am I doing here? What have I agreed to? _Hot tears burned her eyes and threatened to roll down her face. She concentrated all her efforts to keep them from spilling down her cheeks.

She sat silently while she waited for him to finish reading the paper. After what felt like ages, he folded the paper and sat it down neatly by his empty plate. "Come," he said softly. Dutifully, she followed.

* * *

He cleared his throat awkwardly as they walked through the corridor that ran in front of the Banquet Hall. "I am all too familiar with your role as an _insufferable know-it-all_," he said haughtily. "Consequently, I have come to the conclusion that forbidding you from certain areas of the house would only lead to your insistence on seeing them, even at your own peril. So, today I will show you all the areas of the house that are typically off-limits. I trust this will allow us to avoid any snooping on your part."

Hermione considered his words. "That seems fair," she concluded after a moment.

He led her to the northeast wing of the first floor. Norris had not shown her this section of the house yesterday. "This wing is referred to as the 'Bachelors' Hallway'. It has a separate entrance to ensure… discretion." The Bachelors' Hallway consisted of four rooms off a wide corridor. A Billiards Room housed a collection of games and an impressive collection of firewhiskey. The Smoking Room had several full sized humidors and stank terribly.

The Trophy Room was next. He hesitated by the door for a moment after he unwarded the door. "Do not touch _anything_," he warned. Opening the door, she followed him inside carefully. The walls were lined with various artifacts, some mundane, some grotesque. "These are all Dark objects," he explained. "Many are enchanted to curse you viciously, others will outright kill you. This room is kept locked and warded at all times. No one is allowed in here, under any circumstances. Some of my ancestors have used this room for… more nefarious purposes. Lure an enemy here under pretense of reconciliation and allow him to roam the room unsuspecting…" His voice was dark. "Were it not for my position as a Death Eater, I would have destroyed these items long ago. For now, some may prove to serve a purpose for my own nefarious plots one day." Hermione shivered his words.

After the Trophy Room was locked and warded, he led her to the last door. "This room may interest you… regardless, you are to stay out unless I accompany you." He smirked down at her. He flung the door open but did not go inside. Hermione peered in through the doorway. A large four-poster bed dominated the room. The room had various things upon on the walls, and Hermione had to look closer to determine what they were. There were some pegs, ropes, hooks, and… whips? A dungeon? With a bed? _Oh! Oh… it's a… sex room? _She gasped and quickly backed away, blushing deeply. Severus smirked again. "I thought not. Perhaps, though… one day." Hermione gulped nervously.

Severus led her out of the Bachelors' Hallway. He warded the entrance to the corridor carefully. "Now that you have seen it, do not attempt to return. I will know if you do. If your curiosity gets the better of you, I will escort you. It is too dangerous for you to go in those rooms alone." Hermione nodded.

He led her back to the Entrance Hall and down the long Portrait Gallery. Entering the Library, he walked to the discreet wooden door Hermione had inquired about yesterday. His study, Mitzi had said. She followed him. The room echoed the style of the library with dark carved wood and rich burgundy fabrics. This room held more bookshelves and a monolithic carved mahogany desk. The back wall of the room consisted of built-in bookshelves.

"All Dark and illicit texts are kept here in my private study. A personal Restricted Section, if you will. You should have no need for any of these. The door is warded to allow you entry, as I will be here often and you may need to find me at some point. Do not abuse this privilege," he warned darkly. Hermione agreed quickly. Looking at the built in bookshelves, something caught her eye. "Where does that go?" She looked toward the discrete door built into one side of the shelving.

"That door leads downstairs to my private laboratory. I will show you shortly." Nodding, Hermione followed him out through the library and back to the Entrance Hall. He walked past the grand spiral staircase towards a door she had not noticed before. Tucked behind the main staircase, a wooden door opened into a narrower but comfortable flight of stairs. "This accesses the ground floor," he explained. _Oh, right! The kitchens and servants' quarters. _

They emerged in a stone hallway. Turning to their right, Severus led them down a long, narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor, a heavy, industrial door stood toward their right. "This is one of the few things I added to the house," Severus said. "I installed a private laboratory with as many safety features as I could think of. This door prevents fire or toxic fumes from escaping." Unwarding the door, he led her inside. Long, narrow tables with different surface materials stood in two neat lines along the room, ten tables in all. "Various ingredients cut better against different surfaces," he explained. Along one wall, cauldrons of every imaginable material and size were stacked neatly.

Hermione followed Severus across the room to another door. "We are under the library now," he said, leading her into the room. This was his private storeroom. Every potion ingredient Hermione had ever heard of lined the tall shelving of the room. Another locked cabinet held finished potions. A spiral staircase descended from the floor above in one corner of the room, presumably from his private study.

Hermione was awe-struck. Potions had always been one of her favorite subjects and her hands itched to brew again. She had done very little brewing over the past year, between living on the run with Harry and Ron and being a prisoner turned guest at Malfoy Manor. She gazed at her husband for a moment, summoning her courage. "Could I assist you with your potions, sometimes?"

Severus thought for a moment. "It depends on your… condition," he said finally.

_Condition? Oh. Condition. Once I'm pregnant I can't be around potentially harmful fumes. _Hermione sighed, disappointed. Severus watched her, an amused expression on his face.

"Oh, all right. But the minute you suspect… anything, you will stop. Is that understood?"

Hermione clasped her hands together excitedly before launching herself towards him. She through her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Severus stiffened momentarily, but then relaxed and slipped his arms around her.

Releasing him, she smiled broadly. "Thank you, Severus. You may think of me as an insufferable know-it-all, but I do love to learn. And I suppose one benefit of marrying a Potions Master will be access to your considerable intelligence."

Severus' lips quirked at the sides again. _I suppose that's as close to a smile as I will get most of the time._

Taking Hermione by the hand, he led her back through the laboratory and the narrow corridor, returning to the stairwell they had originally descended from.

Severus turned towards her. "I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."

Hermione raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "Pardon?"

"Close your eyes," he repeated firmly. Hermione complied and allowed him to lead her along through a door he opened. He pulled her gently into a new room and adjusted her.

"Ready? Open your eyes."

Hermione's eyes flew open and she gasped. She was looking at a swimming pool. White tiled walls curved upwards around her. The pool was beautifully clear. A walkway ran around the edges of the pool. On end nearest her, steps sloped gently into the shallow end of the pool. On the far end, a diving board indicated deeper water. Lights twinkled below the water, illuminating the room. Above her head, the ceiling, which she knew to be somewhere under the Entrance Hall, had been magically enchanted like the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Brightly lit clouds soared overhead. She turned to Severus, shocked.

"I thought it was just kitchens down here," she said, confusion in her voice.

"Yes, I asked Norris not to mention it to you. I was afraid you'd come down here and drown yourself once the reality of being married to me sunk in. You seem to be holding up quite well, however, so I thought I'd take the chance," he smirked condescendingly.

She swatted him playfully on the arm. He grabbed her hand, and loomed over her threateningly.

Hermione paled. Had she overstepped again? Her fears were negated when he began to drag her playfully toward the pool.

"Tsk, tsk, Madam Snape," he said teasingly. "With a temper like that, perhaps you need to… _cool off_?" His eyes went toward the swimming pool.

Hermione grinned. "You wouldn't dare," she laughed confidently.

Severus raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Are you so sure, Hermione?" They were almost to the edge of the pool. "You should know by now that I don't make idle threats."

She attempted to copy his signature smirk. "You forget, husband, that I have a Gryffindor's courage. I have no fear of your threats."

"Oh really? In that case, you should have nothing to fear about a little _dip_," he said, pushing her gently over the edge of the pool. She had anticipated his actions however, and caught him by the sleeve of his robe. Together they tumbled together into the cold water. They each came up sputtering and laughing.

"Very clever, madam. Are you sure the Sorting Hat was correct? You might have made a great Slytherin," he teased, treading water.

Hermione splashed him in response. They swam towards the steps and emerged from the pool looking quite ridiculous. Hermione sat on the edge of the pool and cast a quick Drying Charm on each of them. The water evaporated, leaving their clothes with a faint _whoosh_. Her hair, however, could not be helped. House-elf magic worked far better than any spell she had every found to charm her locks. Her hair, while dry, had returned to its normal bushy state. Severus sat next to her, contemplating her thoughtfully. Slowly, he reached out to touch a lock of her hair.

"I like this," he said softly. Hermione laughed. He continued, "I do. It isn't so polished and untouchable like all those damned ice-queen pureblood wives that flaunt around their money and class. I like that about you, Hermione. You are very… real."

Hermione felt something stir within her. She had felt it last night, but had been afraid to name it. She recognized it this time, though. _Desire. _

She twisted around so she was facing him. Gingerly, she reached out and stroked his cheek. Before he could protest, she leaned in and kissed him. He was still for a moment, but quickly came to his senses. His arms circled around her, drawing her closer and deepening their kiss. She reached out a touched his chest. The firm muscles were tight under his shirt and she yearned to touch him. She reached her hands up and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. He yanked back, surprised.

"Hermione," he protested. His voice startled her back into reality and she pulled away, embarrassed. She knew she should be furious with him, not kissing him like a fifth year. She looked away, ashamed of her actions and angry with herself.

Severus looked at her, his eyes full of concern. Gently, he pulled her back into his arms. He placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head as he whispered softly, "You are full of surprises indeed, little one."


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven – Undesirable No. 2

After they had righted themselves, Severus led her through the rest of the ground floor. There was a vegetable pantry that stored fresh fruits and vegetables grown on the estate. Another pantry stored dry goods. Vast walk-in refrigerators could have stored enough provisions for a small army. Three kitchens dominated the western wing. The large, cozy main kitchen was full of bustling house-elves who bobbed little curtseys to Severus and Hermione as they scurried about. A separate pastry kitchen (to protect the delicate desserts from the heat of the main kitchen, Severus explained) was run by an elderly house-elf who asked Hermione at length about her dessert preferences. A rotisserie kitchen, that kept smoke and grease from the other kitchens, smelled heavenly to Hermione. A service entrance allowed the kitchens and pantries to operate independently.

They explored the servants' quarters. Small cozy rooms provided ample space for the house-elves on staff. The house-elves had their own sitting room, dining room, and courtyard. The laundry rooms were in the eastern wing, along with two offices. Norris and Mitzi each had a private office to manage estate affairs. Although she would not admit it to Severus, Hermione was relieved to see that the house-elves appeared to be treated well.

Severus led them back up to the second floor to the sitting room that connected their two chambers. Lunch awaited them. They ate in companionable silence.

"Hermione," Severus said, breaking the silence. "You asked me this morning what I would be doing now. How much do you know about the end of the war and what has been happening since then?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Lucius told me Harry and Ron were… _dead_." Her eyes filled with tears and her voice grew thick. "I have not heard about anyone else, only what you said that day about the Order being obliterated. Narcissa mentioned some Muggle-borns dying, but no names."

Severus nodded slowly. "Allow me to explain the events that have led us to this… New World Order." He stood slowly, walked toward one wide window and stared out of it solemnly.

"The Final Battle took place at Hogwarts. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and the remnants of _Dumbledore's Army_ chose to fight. I left the school after a… _confrontation_ with Minerva. The Dark Lord and his forces had gathered in the Forbidden Forest. I will spare you all the gory details, but the battle was fierce. Mr. Potter was…he fought, but in the end… The Dark Lord prevailed. Mr. Weasley was killed as well."

Hermione was silent, absorbing this new information. _It's my fault. I should have been there. And now I'm here, in this damned mansion, letting Snape fuck me; and enjoying it. _She shuddered. _Maybe I _am_ just a Death Eater whore. _Tears spilled down her face as he continued.

"Many Order members are missing. Not all were killed; in fact, very few were. We believe that most have fled to other countries. They are the nation's most dangerous criminals and efforts to find them are intense. I know you have not seen a _Daily Prophet _since before your initial imprisonment, so I wanted to warn you that we are in the midst of a… propaganda campaign." He crossed to the table and pulled a paper out of his robes. "Here."

She took it carefully. The cover of the _Daily Prophet_ was, to Hermione's great shock, a photo of herself and Severus. They were standing side by side in their wedding outfits from yesterday. Hermione's image continuously smiled weakly, while Severus' smirked next to her. Bolded letters heralded the photo: **War Hero weds Undesirable No. 2**. An article written by Rita Skeeter accompanied the picture:

_It is a well-established fact that Miss Hermione Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, has a taste for famous wizards. Her illicit teen romances with deceased lunatic Harry Potter and Quidditch star Viktor Krum were just the beginning of her dalliances with powerful wizards_.

Hermione looked up sharply. "That witch!" Severus nodded for her to continue reading.

_It appears that Miss Granger's greatest _coup d'état _is in allying herself with war hero Severus Snape. The celebrated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been lauded as a public hero, instrumental in the fall of _Undesirable No. 1_ and the illustrious rise of the Dark Lord to power. _

_Miss Granger, long heralded as _Undesirable No. 2_, was pardoned of all criminal charges shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, when it was revealed that she had joined the Dark Lord's forces_.

"I WHAT?" Hermione shouted irately. Severus shrugged. "Propaganda, little wife. The Dark Lord only agreed to this arrangement to serve his own purposes. Remember that."

_A torrid love affair soon emerged between the Potions Master and Miss Granger. An inside source tells the _Daily Prophet_ that Professor Snape proposed romantically to Miss Granger the day after their victory at the Battle of Hogwarts. After a month long engagement, the distinguished couple wed yesterday at Malfoy Manor. This reporter was there to get all the inside scoop. _

The article continued on banally about the bride's dress, guests that attended, what was served and the decorations. Hermione skimmed over all inane details. She stopped near the bottom of the article.

_Rumor has it that his recent marriage will prompt Professor Snape to step down as Headmaster. The newlywed couple is said to be enjoying an extended honeymoon at Professor Snape's ancestral home, Prince Park. Will we be hearing the pitter-patter of little feet soon? The _Daily Prophet _will be the first to know!_

Hermione threw the paper onto the table in disgust. As she did so, a moving photo near on the underside of the folded paper caught her eye. _Ginny? Luna? Neville? _

Individual photos of her friends, frowning against measured height backdrops littered the page. Each photo was captioned.

* * *

**Weasley, Ginerva **

114920

Bounty: 20,000 Galleons

Last known location: Muggle Athens, Greece

Blood Traitor Wanted for aiding and abetting known criminals of war, resisting arrest.

**Lovegood, Luna **

137291

Bounty: 10,000 Galleons

Last known location: Muggle Budapest, Hungary

Blood Traitor Wanted for smuggling Mudbloods and Muggles across restricted borders, resisting arrest, aiding known criminals of war.

**Longbottom, Neville**

110033

Bounty: 50,000 Galleons

Last known location: Wizarding Paris, France

Blood Traitor Wanted for resisting arrest, harboring Muggle-borns. Believed to be leader of underground resistance.

* * *

Hermione's face betrayed her disbelief. "They're alive," she said, stunned.

Severus nodded gravely. "Yes; in grave danger, but yes. They are alive."

"Why are you telling me this? You are the Dark Lord's _most loyal servant_," she spat at him.

With a deep sigh, Severus began to speak. "Hermione… I am a Slytherin. I chose the winning side, and we are both alive today because of it. I told you before: I cannot share with you all or even most of what it is that I do or why I do it. Someday, perhaps, but not today. I have decided, however, that it would be prudent to teach you Occlumency. After you master that and can successfully shield your thoughts from others, maybe we can discuss this further."

"Who would I need to protect my mind from?" Hermione asked.

Severus gave an exasperated sigh. "The Dark Lord! You think he's just going to let you go and never bother you again? Think, Hermione! You are my wife now. You will be called before him often; he will be here, in our home, often! Any anger or resentment you harbor towards him or me could cost us both _our lives_," he hissed at her.

Taking a deep breath, Severus spoke again. "Hermione, I promised to protect you. I need you to allow me to do so. You must appear to the outward world as a paragon of pureblood virtue. You _will_ observe their customs, you _will _be a member of their society, and you _will _convince anyone and everyone you encounter that you have seen the error of your ways and are completely devoted to the Dark Lord and myself," he said more softly. "It is the only way you will live."

Hermione stood suddenly, shoving herself away from the table. "I don't want to live like that!" she shouted. "What life is that? What's the point of continuing to live if all that is right and good in the world is dead?"

Severus stood, his face contorted in anger. "No one _wants_ to live like that, _madam_. But you _must_ and you _will_." Hermione flung herself onto a nearby couch, sobbing uncontrollably. He shook his head and took another deep breath. "I know what you think of me: the traitor, the bastard, the spy. Try to trust me, Hermione. However hard that may be, please try to trust me. I will endeavor not to betray your trust."

By the time she finished crying, she was alone. She quickly fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Hermione jostled awake.

Her mind race with the information Severus had imparted to her. _How can I live like this? What have I done? I've promised to give him children, children who will grow up like _Malfoy; o_r worse, like _Voldemort._ Ginny, Luna and Neville are on the run, fighting for the resistance and their lives while I'm lounging around getting sprogged up by Voldemort's right hand man. _Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. Wiping them away, she sat up. _I must and I will live. I will find a way to fight for the Light. But first, I must survive. _

She had resigned herself to being Snape's wife; it had been that or death. She had also agreed to have his children; what choice did she have? Now she had to resign herself to playing a part, acting like the most adoring and loyal wife and Voldemort supporter. She was the brightest witch of her age. Surely that could not be too difficult?

Her mind began to think traitorous thoughts. _What is the Dark really has won? What if the Light never wins? Will this roll I'm forced to play slowly become my life and my reality? Can I spend the next hundred years pretending to be someone I am not? _Steeling her mind, she nodded to herself. _Yes, because even if the Dark reigns, I can find ways to help others; to protect those needing protection. My children would need protection. I would protect them. . _

Hermione walked into her chamber sat down at her vanity mirror to compose herself. She looked retched.

"Erm… Bitzy?" she said hesitantly. Hermione gasped as the small elf popped into the room.

"Good afternoon, madam! How can Bitzy be of service?"

"Well, I'd um… I'd like a bath. I can do it myself," Hermione said quickly. "But Madam Malfoy said that might hurt your feelings."

Bitzy beamed at her. "Bitzy would be happy to draw your bath, madam!" The elf hurried into the bathroom and Hermione heard the taps gurgling.

Hermione stepped carefully into the bathroom. She slipped out of her clothing and sank gently into the warm water. Bitzy conjured a pitcher and set about washing Hermione's hair, chatting as she did so. "Is young madam pleased with Prince Park?"

"Oh very much," Hermione answered honestly. "It is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Bitzy squeaked in delight. "Bitzy is so happy to hear that, madam! We were so excited when Master Snape said you would be coming. Dobby always spoke so well of Harry Potter's friend."

Hermione turned around suddenly. "You know Dobby?" Her voice was incredulous.

Bitzy looked down sadly. "Did know, madam. Dobby died in the war."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm so sorry. I did not know."

Bitzy gave her a brave smile. "Dobby died a brave elf, helping Harry Potter and Harry Potter's friends." Hermione nodded slowly and sank into the tub.

When she had finished her bath and dressed, Hermione returned to her room. A small piece of parchment lay on the bed.

_H,_

_Tea at 4 o'clock, Glass Garden. Do not be late. _

_S _

Glancing up at her clock, she realized she had an hour to spare before tea. She slipped out of the room and towards the staircase. She made her way to the first floor and the library. She had been enamored with the library from the moment she laid eyes on it and could not wait to explore the treasures within.

Hermione quickly found a book that interested her and settled down on one of the sofas. As she usually did, she kicked off her shoes and lay prostrate with the book in front of her. The sofa was plush and she soon found herself immersed in her book.

She had finished two chapters when she heard hurried whispers nearing the door of the library. Hermione looked around and realized that from her position on the sofa, she could not be seen by anyone entering the door of the library. She lay still and strained to listen.

The voices grew louder as they approached the door. The doors flung open and footsteps approached. Hermione held her breath as she heard Severus speak.

"_You should not have come here!" _he hissed angrily.

"Severus, I had no choice," the voice said apologetically. _Hang on, _Hermione thought. _That voice is familiar. _

"If you are seen we are _all_ exposed! Bloody thoughtless werewolf," Severus grumbled.

_Werewolf? Surely it wasn't – _

"Ah Severus, always the optimist. I would be remiss if I did not admit that I wanted to check on the girl as well," the voice admitted softly.

_Lupin! _It took every once of Hermione's self control not to spring up and rush to him. _He's alive! But why is he here? With… Severus? _

"I'll give you the bloody Wolfsbane, but you will have to find a new source. You certainly can't keep running back here every month. _No one_ can know, _especially_ Hermione." Severus' voice was edged with danger.

Lupin was silent for a moment. "Fine, though there aren't many Potions Masters in sodding Yorkshire. But more importantly, _is she_ _alright_, Severus?" His voice was low and troubled.

Severus sniffed indignantly. "Of course she's _alright_, Remus. I'm not the monster here, after all. And you forget, this is her _honeymoon_." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Their voices faded as they entered Severus' study and shut the door. Hermione waited a moment before creeping slowly out of the library and flying up the stairs to her room. She did not want Severus to know she had been eavesdropping. Her mind raced as she flung herself on her bed. _Why would Lupin come to Severus for help? Lupin is an Order member! He wouldn't have spoken to Severus at all unless… _Her heart leapt. _Could Severus still be working for the Order? Was he still a spy? No; surely not now that the Dark Lord was victorious. He was a _pragmatist, _after all. _

She glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost time for tea. Analysis of the afternoon's events would have to wait. Gathering her thoughts and composing herself once more, she set off.

* * *

After a pleasant tea with Severus in the Glass Garden, he had shown her the grounds of the estate. The Italian Garden nearest the main house held three symmetrical pools. Nearby stood a pergola covered in a canopy of Wisteria and Trumpet Creeper. Past that, the Shrub Garden was filled with hundreds of woody plants.

English summer gardens were always glorious to Hermione, and these gardens were especially so. The delightful Walled Garden, a self-contained world full of brilliant colors and fragrances, mesmerized her. It sprawled across four acres, filled with thousands of roses and other beautiful blooms. At the far end of the Walled Garden, a massive glass, brick, and stucco building sat. Severus explained that this was the Conservatory, added by his Victorian era ancestors. The Conservatory housed a collection of palms and exotic plants. Behind the Conservatory, two more gardens awaited. The Spring Garden and the Azalea Garden were heavenly oases of color and fragrance. Hermione marveled at all the blooms. The colors were so vibrant.

After their tour, they walked lazily back toward the main house. They walked silently for some time before Hermione spoke. "Thank you, Severus. For showing me all of this," she said, gesturing around her. "I never dreamt such a heavenly garden existed." She smiled up at him brightly.

Severus nodded. "I am delighted that you found the grounds agreeable. I have been thinking about your desire to return to Hogwarts and complete your education," he said slowly. "I hope you understand why that is not possible. The Carrows are still Deputy Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster. You were mercifully spared their particular forms of… punishment. You would be too great a target for them. I could not protect you. And besides, it would not be proper. Pregnant students were always removed from school."

Hermione nodded gravely. She hadn't been foolish enough to hope he would change his mind.

"I have, however, given thought to alternatives."

Hermione held her breath.

"What N.E.W.T. subjects were you taking?"

Hermione answered quickly, "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, History of Magic, Herbology, Astronomy, Potions, and Ancient Runes."

Severus snorted. "Naturally." He thought for a moment. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is out, for obvious reasons. It isn't even taught at Hogwarts anymore. Transfiguration could cause a miscarriage, as could Potions. Care of Magical Creatures could also be dangerous. But Charms, Arithmancy, Herbology, Astronomy, and Ancient Runes would be safe enough. I can arrange private instructors for you in those subjects. You will have to study here. It would be too risky to have you traveling around. Would that be agreeable to you?"

"Really?" Hermione breathed. "You would really do that? I could still take my N.E.W.T.s?"

Severus' face darkened. "No, I'm afraid that would not be possible. No one can know about your lessons; the Dark Lord would not like it. I have kept you alive this long by assuring him you will submit blindly."

Hermione nodded. "Will he not find out if you hire private instructors, then?"

Severus shook his head. "No, the estate is large and well protected. Any competent witch or wizard can arrive and exit very discretely, when the occasion calls for it."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Why then," she asked, "was Prince Park not used as the Headquarters of the Dark Lord? It's much larger than Malfoy Manor."

Severus smiled darkly. "There are two reasons for that, really. For one, the enchanted dragons that you pass to enter the house will attack most who enter who wish to cause the family harm. Of course, a powerful enough wizard can confuse them via Occlumency. However, that is not a skill most Death Eaters possess. The home I inherited from my Muggle father in Spinner's End has been used to further the cause, however. That has satisfied the Dark Lord thus far. And the other reason, of course, is that the Dark Lord's use of Malfoy Manor was never a mark of honor; quite the opposite, in fact. He was furious with Lucius for his failure at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and punished him thusly," he said icily.

"I see. I'm very relieved he doesn't want to be here. I can't really imagine him here, slithering around the garden with that terrible snake of his." Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"Oh, he will come: soon and often." The closed expression had returned to Severus' face. "He will want to see proof of our _domestic bliss_. I will handle him as I always have: smoothly and deferentially. You need only be quiet and courteous. That will appease him."

Severus stopped suddenly, grabbing Hermione's shoulders to look at her carefully. "He knows of my plans for you," he said warningly. "He knows I want a son. Once you conceive, you will be in more danger than you are now. I cannot risk you gallivanting about unsupervised. You are _not _to leave the estate without myself or another suitable escort. Draco and Narcissa have offered their help; they are reasonably trustworthy. Lucius is like a brother to me, but I have seen his thoughts about you and will not leave you alone with him. You should never be alone with the Dark Lord or Bellatrix, if you can prevent it. _Especially _Bellatrix. Several truly dark spells and curses involve unborn, firstborn sons… and Bellatrix has always been one to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Trust Narcissa. She handles Bellatrix better than anyone, and if you befriend her, she may prevent Bellatrix from harming you.

The anguish in his eyes startled Hermione. _Does he care for me? Or just his future children? _She took his words to heart, regardless. Narcissa could shield her from Bellatrix's wrath. She would need all the help she could get.

* * *

Hermione returned to her rooms that evening breathless from the day. Dinner had been just as wonderful as the previous night: Beef Wellington and Cabernet Sauvignon. Hermione and Severus had exchanged light conversation. She told him a few amusing antidotes from her time under Narcissa's tutelage and he shared some of the more ridiculous occurrences he had experience as Headmaster. He escorted her back to the sitting room once again and informed her that he would join her shortly in her chamber.

Her nerves fluttered as she brushed her teeth. She slipped into her nightgown, green silk this time, and climbed quietly into bed. Bitzy bustled around the room, extinguishing lights and gathering her soiled clothes. Finally, she approached Hermione, who sat against the headboard with her hands folded primly in her lap. Bitzy curtseyed quickly and disappeared with a pop. A knock sounded at Hermione's door. "Come in," she called softly.

Severus entered, once again in his green dressing gown. She smiled weakly at him. _He is helping Lupin_, she reminded herself. _He must still be fighting for the Light_. _He is a good man and he will protect me. He will protect our children._ Her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought. She had thought of having a child while walking through the gardens that afternoon. She could almost imagine watching a small child toddle through the azaleas.

Severus climbed into bed slowly, sitting next to her against the headboard. He reached over and took her hand. "I enjoyed this day with you, Hermione," he said earnestly. He smirked. "Especially the bit by the pool."

Hermione blushed. "I enjoyed that, too," she said quietly.

"You have been full of surprises thus far, little wife."

"So have you," she said, her voice earnest.

He kissed her passionately. His hand stroked the curve of her cheek gently. Pulling her closer to him, he intensified the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth, coaxing hers into response. Hermione responded by putting her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely. He broke the kiss and pulled away. Turning his attention to her neck, he kissed down her jawline and around the curve of her neck. He nibbled on her ears tenderly. One hand lightly brushed her right breast, teasing down the bodice of her nightgown. He rolled her nipple gently between his fingers as he kissed her mouth ardently again.

Severus pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled his legs. Hermione gasped softly when she felt his erection straining to escape his silk boxers. Daringly, she rocked her hips against his hardness. He kissed her again, sliding the straps of her nightgown down and exposing her breasts. He pulled her against him in a tight embrace. Her nipples were pressed against the soft hair of his chest as he kissed her neck aggressively, nipping and sucking softly as he went.

His hand crept down and touched her swollen bud. She arched her back in pleasure as he played with her, rubbing delicious circles into her delicate skin. He smiled devilishly as he felt her wetness soak his silk boxers. Moving her gently, he laid her down on her back. He quickly removed his boxers and was on her again, covering her small body with his. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it greedily. Reaching down between them, he nudged his aching member against her dripping folds.

He entered her slowly, enjoying every ridge of her tightness. He returned his mouth to hers and kissed her; kissed her as if she were the only thing worth living for, kissed her as if she was the source of all immortality.

He thrust into her with deliberately slow, fluid strokes. They came together, shuddering gently. Hermione floated softly into blissful oblivion.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, she realized she was not alone. Severus' arms were wrapped around her, hugging her gently to his chest. He was breathing softly. She glanced up to find his eyes closed. _How strange_, she mused. _He didn't stay with me last night._ Moonlight from the large windows illuminated his features. Hermione studied his profile carefully. His aquiline nose, which she had always found so distasteful, looked regal and dignified from her vantage point now. Without his distasteful sneer or biting comments, he vaguely resembled the Roman emperors whose marble profiles lined his bedroom.

Her mind swirled as she thought about all she had learned about her new husband. _He is Voldemort's most trusted follower_, she mused. _I suppose killing Dumbledore cemented that title. But if he _is _Voldemort's right hand, why was he helping Lupin? And what is it that I'm not to know? I do believe that Severus always tried to protect the students at Hogwarts, Ron, Harry and I in particular. Even after Harry stunned him, he threw himself in front of a werewolf to save us. He did save my life by marrying me. And I don't buy for a moment that it was just to help Voldemort's propaganda agenda… No, there must be another reason. He undoubtedly wants children, but that's not enough reason to marry _me. _There are countless witches who would have agreed to the match wholeheartedly._ _No, _Hermione decided_, there is something else to all this. And I _will _find out what it is. _Settling back into the warmth of Severus' arms, she quickly fell asleep.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight – Occlumency

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she was once again alone. Bitzy was already scampering around the room, preparing her outfit for the day. Hermione bathed and dressed leisurely before heading down the stairs and into the Breakfast Room. Severus was already seated and reading the _Daily Prophet_. She murmured a greeting to him as she helped herself to a large bowl of fruit.

Hermione jumped as Mercury swooped in through the open window, dropping a stack of letters near Severus' plate. He folded the paper sharply and riffled through the letters. Hermione observed him cautiously as he ripped open a deep green envelope addressed with spindly writing. He read the letter quickly, frowning deeply as he reached the end. Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself away from the table, flinging the letter from him. He strode quickly to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and grumbled into the emerald flames, "Malfoy Manor!" After a moment, he spoke again, "Narcissa?" A familiar voice called back, "Good morning, Severus. How are the newlyweds?"

Irritation dripped from his voice as he spoke. "Narcissa," he called into the flames, "it seems your son does not trust my ability to properly attend to Madam Snape. I assure you, she is quite well. Please inform Draco that I shall not indulge his tiresome meddling into my personal affairs, and most assuredly will not allow his unnecessary interest in the state of my wife's health."

Lilting laughter tinkled through the Floo connection. "Of course, Severus, my apologies. Draco is just eager to know that his dear godmother is well." Hermione shudder at the thought: _Draco's godmother. That seems unnatural. _

"Draco will do well to remember that I have been entrusted with the care of hundreds of students since long before he was _even born_. I may no longer be his Head of House, but I will not hesitate to reprimand the boy for his impudence if he continues to act in such a vulgar and unbecoming manner."

A soft sigh floated through the connection. "I do apologize, Severus. I will impart your words to Draco. Please excuse the intrusion. I know you and your young bride are very _busy._" Narcissa's voice was tinged with wickedness. Severus rolled his eyes. "Good day, Narcissa." He ended the connection and returned to the table. Hermione eyed him curiously as he sat down. "Erm… what was that about?"

Severus sipped his tea thoughtfully before he spoke. "Hermione," he began, ignoring her question. "Has Draco ever expressed any… interest in you? Interest of a romantic nature?" He looked at her pointedly across the table. Hermione choked on her blueberries. "Draco? Romantic? No, not at all. Never. _Of course not!_" she hissed.

Severus relaxed visibly. "Good. That would complicate things. As it is, Draco oversteps his position as my godson. I indulge the boy too much, but the idea that I would answer any missive of his regarding _you_ is laughable indeed." Severus picked up the remaining mail and sorted through it. Hermione returned to her fruit; clearly, he was finished discussing the matter.

Severus read through several letters before he spoke again. "You've been invited to tea with Madam Greengrass and her daughters next Thursday. You will attend. Narcissa will escort you." Hermione nodded, but rolled her eyes inwardly. Daphne Greengrass had been a nasty chit since first year, and she did not relish the thought of spending a tedious tea in her company. _You must play the game_, she reminded herself.

Hermione watched as Severus opened a black enveloped letter. His already sallow complexion paled considerably as he read the contents of the letter. He set the letter down and looked at Hermione. His gaze burned intensely.

"You and I are commanded to attend a state dinner next Friday. The Dark Lord's inner circle will be in attendance. It will be, in essence, your first test. The Dark Lord and the others will be watching to see if you are the submissive, loyal wife I have assured him you will be. I trust Narcissa's lessons will serve you well. I am, however, concerned about the Dark Lord venturing into your mind and finding you less than totally docile. We will begin Occlumency lessons immediately. That gives us less than a week, but you are _supposedly_ the brightest witch of your age. I pray to Merlin that is true." She toyed nervously with the pendant around her neck as he spoke. Would it offer her any protection against the Dark Lord?

Severus grabbed her hand roughly and pulled her from the Breakfast Room. Hermione struggled to keep up as he dragged her down the Portrait Gallery, through the Library, and into his study. He pushed her into a chair without ceremony as he pulled his wand from his pocket.

"The Dark Lord," he drawled, "will not hesitate to _rip your mind apart_ to find what he desires. You must learn to protect your thoughts from intrusion. He is one of the most skilled Legilimens the world has ever seen. He will enter your mind silently and insidiously before you are even aware he is present. You must be prepared at all times, outside of this home. I cannot protect you if he finds something… unsavory within your thoughts. Prepare your mind, _now_."

Hermione's thoughts were frantic. What was she supposed to do? She remembered Harry complaining unyieldingly about the difficult of his Occlumency lessons with Severus. What had he said? Before she could think, her mind was invaded. He tore through her memories, slashing his way through her mind.

_She is eleven and Minerva McGonagall is standing in her parents' drawing room, explaining that she is a _witch. _A witch! To prove her point, she transfigures her parents' terrible Parisian vase into the most delightful music box Hermione has ever seen. _

The scene shifts.

_Bellatrix has her knife to her throat and the chandelier is creaking above her. _

The scene shifts again.

_She is at the Burrow with Harry and Ron, laughing as the chase each other up the rickety stairs. _

Hermione shuddered as she fights to force him out of her mind. _Think, Hermione, think!_ She desperately tries to stop his intrusion of her thoughts. _What does he want to see? Show him what he would want to see. What he wants to see_. Her mind tugs at a memory and it fills her mind. She plucks a few, focusing on them intently.

_Severus, laughing in the Breakfast Room._

_Severus, covering her naked body with his as he kisses her neck. _

_Severus, tumbling into the pool with her. _

_She and Severus walking arm-in-arm through the azaleas, as she thinks how delightful it would be to watch a small boy take his first steps through these gardens. _

As suddenly as he entered her mind, he is gone. They both stared at each other, wide-eyed, gasping for breath.

"_What was that?"_ his voiced hissed at her. _"How did you create _that_?"_

Hermione looked at him in confusion. "How did I create _what_?"

"In the gardens yesterday, you and I. How did you create that thought? What you were thinking as we walked," he clarified, his face an expressionless mask.

"Oh," Hermione explained, "I didn't _create_ that. I, um, well, I _thought_ it then. It was just a memory." She blushed deeply.

A flicker of emotion crossed Severus' face so briefly Hermione thought she might have imagined it. When he spoke once more, his voice was harsh. "That was an… adequate effort for your first attempt. However, the Dark Lord will expect more than just a few _sweet_ memories to satisfy his curiosity. You must block every thought except the ones you create and want him to see. Imagine a blank slate, a calm loch, a corridor with locked doors, anything that will keep me out. Prepare yourself. _Legili-"_

"Wait!" Hermione's voice was panicked. Severus looked at her in frustration. "Insolent girl," he hissed. "Do you think the Dark Lord will _wait_ until you are ready to attack your mind?"

Hermione _knew_ he would find the memory of her eavesdropping on him and Lupin in the library. She knew she had to tell him; he would be much angrier if he found it on his own.

"No, I have to tell you something, Severus."

He raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"I was reading in the library yesterday, before tea." Hermione knotted her hands together nervously, anticipating his anger. "I overheard you… and, umm, _Lupin_."

Severus' jaw clenched. She could see a vein trembling in his temple. His voice was low and dangerous as he spoke, "You _spied_ on me? After all I have done for you, _madam?"_

"It was an accident, Severus, truly! I did not mean to overhear, it happened so quickly!" Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she waited for his threats, his stinging words, his harsh grip.

Hermione was shocked when none came. Severus sat down, took several deep breaths, and steepled his hands together in front of him. He sat in quiet contemplation for several minutes before he spoke.

"Hermione," he began slowly, "you were not meant to hear any of that. What you have heard has put us both in grave danger. It is now more imperative that you master Occlumency immediately. A lofty goal, I assure you, but one you must strive for nonetheless. To show the Dark Lord _that_ would mean certain death for both of us. We will not discuss this matter anymore; your further knowledge of the implications of that particular event would be more disastrous and much more difficult for you to hide. Do you understand?"

A million questions swirled in Hermione's mind. She bit her tongue and nodded quickly.

Severus sighed. "Good, we will speak of this no more. I do think, given this recent revelation, that it would benefit us both to not only block certain memories, but also create new ones that… encourage the Dark Lord's perception of you as a loyal and willing follower." Hermione thought carefully before she spoke. "What kind of memories?"

Severus smirked at her. "One's of a sexual nature would be sufficient, and false memories of you and I discussing pureblood ideals. Your love for the house is obvious and real, so a few embellishments here and there would be adequate."

Hermione steeled herself. She pictured her mind as a long corridor with hundreds of locked doors leading away from her in each direction. "I'm ready," she said softly.

"_Legilimens!"_

* * *

Hermione was _drunk_. She had never been drunk before, but she knew that was the only explanation for the feeling of weightlessness she was currently experiencing. Severus was speaking to her. _What were we discussing? Oh, Occlumency. _

"Your progress today was extraordinary, Hermione. You have a natural talent for Occlumency. If we survive past next Friday, I will consider teaching you Legilimency. Talent in one is often indicative of a natural inclination for the other. It is a most useful skill to have." His voice was low and soft. They were finishing their dinner together in the Great Hall. Two empty bottles of wine sat between them. Hermione's Occlumency lessons had been tiring for both of them, and Hermione had readily accepted each glass of wine Severus offered.

Hermione tilted her head to one side as she regarded her husband. This man, this damned enigma of a man, was continuously surprising her. He had shown her a remarkable amount of patience today as the trained her mind. In the Potions classroom, Hermione had always found him to be a talented, but frustrating teacher. Here, however, Hermione was delighted to see that he was a gifted teacher, offering her constructive criticism and just enough encouragement to keep her motivated. He had shown her how to strengthen her internal fortress, as she had begun to think of it.

"You are an excellent teacher, Severus. Truly." Her voice matched his in softness. "I'm sorry that your students were never more appreciative of your talents. Even myself. I always knew you were extraordinarily intelligent, but I did not realize how perceptive you were." She had not spoken of his time as her professor since the day of their wedding. She was slightly unsure of it even now, but the wine had loosened her tongue considerably.

Severus chuckled lightly. "I did not allow anyone to see past the terrifying bat of the dungeons persona, Hermione. It is not your fault that you saw what everyone else saw." He smiled at her with new warmth. "I could have told you that you were the most talented witch I had ever taught, but how would that look? I, who never gave praise, compliment the Gryffindor Princess? That would have looked entirely uncouth, I assure you. How ironic now; I worried so that showing you any inclination of praise might lead to unsavory accusations. Yet, here we are." His brow furrowed as he looked away from her.

_He thought I was the most talented witch he had ever taught_, she thought to herself. _How I longed to hear those words from him. The girl who dreamed of that seems like a lifetime away, not just a few years. _Hermione placed her hand gently on top of his. Severus looked up at her. In that moment, Hermione saw the anger and self-loathing in his eyes. _He feels guilty, _she realized. _He's ashamed that he was my professor and now we_…

Severus rose from the table and Hermione did as well. The full weight of the wine hit her then and she put her hands against the table, steadying herself. She glanced up at Severus from beneath her long lashes, desperately wanting to reassure him.

Before she could think of something to comfort him, his eyes flashed again. The expression in them now was no longer self-loathing. It was pure, deep desire. Severus leaned across the table until his face was mere inches from Hermione's. "You aren't my student any longer, are you?" His voice was husky and seductive. A slight tremor shot through Hermione's body. She looked deeply into his eyes. "No, Severus, I am not." The wine made her bold and she smiled wickedly at him.

He was on her in a flash, kissing her lips passionately. His tongue found hers and the kiss deepened, sending waves of desire rolling through her. When he pulled away, his breath was labored. He took her in his arms and pushed her slightly backwards. The table was beneath her, supporting her. He kissed her again and again, erasing any memories of him as the professor, the great git, and the greasy bastard. Here, in this magnificent Great Hall, with his soft lips and urgent kisses, it was just Severus, her husband, her protector. Was it the wine or their magic she felt tightening around them, drawing them together desperately and hurriedly?

Severus coaxed her further back onto the table and slipped one hand between her pale thighs and tugged off her panties. He smirked at her wetness before dropping to his knees. His tongue found her core and he teased it slowly, gently. He thrust two long, elegant fingers into her and Hermione gasped in pleasure. Hermione's hands danced through his hair as he continued his ministrations. _Not greasy at all_, she thought amusedly, _just soft, fine hair_. She tugged at his shoulders and his eyes met hers but his mouth continued. It was the most erotic sight Hermione had ever seen. This man, on his knees before her, his mouth on her, and his obsidian eyes locked with hers. "I want you, Severus. Please. Now," she whimpered.

He gave her one final lap with tongue that sent her shuddering. He stood and kissed her passionately. She could taste herself on him. He positioned himself between her soft folds and thrust into her slowly. Hermione gripped his shoulders as the pleasure coursed through her. She slid her hands down his arms and heard him hiss sharply as her hands danced over his forearms. His hips bucked wildly against hers and she looked up at him.

"_Don't touch it,"_ he hissed. "I can't be gentle with you if you touch _that_."

_Touch it?_ Her mind struggled to comprehend. Suddenly, it hit her. _The Dark Mark_. _I touched his Dark Mark._ Despite her wine addled state, her mind lit up with an idea. Severus had told her that the most convincing falsified memories were adjustments of an event that truly occurred, instead of a total fabrication. Steeling herself, she danced her hand over the Dark Mark once more. "_Hermione_," Severus moaned as he bucked against her again. "He can feel it, Hermione. He can feel our passion if you touch me there."

Hermione looked at him with staunch determination. She kissed his lips hungrily. He thrust into her more rapidly now. Pulling her lips away from his kiss, she kissed the side of his neck and leaned close to whisper into his ear. She stroked his mark as she whispered, _"Good. I want him to know, Severus. Let the Dark Lord know how you make me come." _He let out a strangled cry and thrust into her roughly. Hermione leaned away from his ear and grasped his left forearm. She raised it slowly to her lips and kissed the mark gently.

Severus roared ferociously. Hermione's orgasm scorched through her body, leaving her shaking and gasping her passions against his Dark Mark. Severus grasped her roughly by her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes as he fucked her without abandon. Three more quick thrusts and Severus met his own end, spilling into her with her name on his lips. _"Hermione!"_ They held each other close as their breath and senses returned. Severus pulled out of her and righted himself, then held his hand out to help her off the table. She smoothed her dress and stood on unsteady feet. Together they stumbled out of the Great Hall and up the stairs.

Hermione was shocked when she realized that Severus was leading her into his room. He tugged her into his bathroom, where he quickly divested himself of his robes and slipped her dress off. He left on the Prince pendant she had worn since the night he had placed it around her neck. He led them into the large marble shower, which sprang to life automatically. The temperature was perfect as Hermione let herself be cleansed by the pleasant warmth of the water. Her mind was hazy with the buzz of the elfish wine and the blur of her orgasm. Severus retrieved a bar of sweet smelling soap and washed her back and chest gently, his fingers dancing elegantly across her soft skin. She smiled at him lazily, enjoying the intimacy of this moment. When he finished, he wrapped a towel around his lower half and another around her middle. She followed him into his bedroom, and stood awkwardly by his bed, unsure where to go. Did he want her here? Or was she to be sent back to her own room? She watched as he donned boxers and a t-shirt. He brought a shirt to her, slipping it over her head. He dried her hair with a wordless charm and it bushed out around her. He clasped her hand and led her to the bed, crawling in beside her.

He drew her into his arms and stroked her hair softly. "You are quite the clever witch, little wife. That little stunt will insulate us very nicely. The Dark Lord will be… extremely pleased." Hermione smiled against his chest. He felt so nice and the bed was so warm. She faintly heard him whispering words to her, but her eyes were so heavy. She fell helplessly into a welcome sleep.

* * *

It might have been hours or moments later when she awoke, Hermione could not tell. Severus was kissing her again, more gently this time. His hardness was pressed against her and she opened her legs, welcoming in. He thrust into her slowly, with deliberate strokes. She was still drunk, that much was certain. His movements and his kisses were so familiar. She felt as though she had been kissed this way for years instead of days. He was murmuring into her ear again, words she could barely hear and could not comprehend. She welcomed his touches, grinding herself against him in a desperate attempt to find her own release. Her orgasm washed over her like a gentle wave and she shuddered as she felt him meet his release deep within in. The pendant she wore burned momentarily against her chest as he spoke softly to her. His voice barely registered as she slipped back into oblivion. _"You have bewitched me, little wife."_

* * *

A voice was calling to her. "Madam Snape?" Hermione struggled to wake up. "Madam Snape?" Her head was pounding. She opened her eyes to find the room was mercifully dark. She was alone. "Madam Snape?" This time, the voice registered. She looked around, attempting to find the source of her name. There was no one in the room. "Over here, madam." The voice was coming from the corner of the room, near the door. Hermione forced herself out of bed. She saw Severus' green robe lying out on a chair near the bed and wrapped it around her. Rubbing her eyes, she approached the sound of the voice.

A moving portrait sat proudly in a gold frame fixed to the wall. An elderly man with a prominent nose and dark hair occupied the frame. He smiled at her warmly as she approached. "Madam Snape, good morning! I do apologize for awaking you, but I could not resist this opportunity to speak with you privately. Severus has gone down to breakfast but one of those bothersome house-elves will undoubtedly bustle in soon. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hadrian Prince, I am Severus' uncle."

Despite her pounding head, Hermione managed a smile at the portrait. "It's lovely to meet you, Master Prince. I am Hermione Granger. Hermione Snape, now."

"Please, child, call me Hadrian. I do not hold myself to the pureblood rules in death as I did in life. I have been watching you since you arrived. I am thoroughly pleased with your behavior so far. You are a bright witch, I hear. I was tickled when Severus informed me of his intentions. You are good for him, child, more than you know."

Hermione blushed deeply. _Did he see us last night? _

Hadrian chuckled. "Never fear, Madam Snape, I know when to make myself scarce. There are several portraits I can visit when _discretion _is called for." Hermione smiled weakly. "Your home is magnificent, Hadrian. I was sorry to hear about the circumstances in which Severus' came to inherit it."

Hadrian smiled kindly. "Never mind that, dear heart. Severus' may not be a Prince in name, but he is the most worthy heir this estate has seen in many centuries. And _you_, my dear, are quite a worthy companion for him. That amulet suits you well, you know," he said, gesturing to her necklace.

Hermione picked the pendant up and regarded it carefully. "It's very beautiful, sir. It burned last night, but it's back to normal now." Hadrian looked at her intently. "Did it really?" His voice was thoughtful. "Yes, I believe so. Just for a moment or so," Hermione answered. Hadrian smirked down at her. "Does it mean anything?" she asked. "Only time will tell, my dear, but certainly nothing to worry yourself about." Hermione frowned. _What's he not telling me? _

"Now, the reason I so rudely awoke you this morning was to discuss my dear nephew. I cared deeply for Severus, once I came to know him late in my life. He is a powerful wizard, one of the most powerful I have ever known. He has the collective inheritance of generations of power, but his talents are uniquely his own. I have often wondered… is he powerful because he is the Dark Lord's right hand, or is he the Dark Lord's right hand because he is so powerful? The latter, I think."

Hermione thought carefully before she spoke. "Severus seems to be a very complicated man. I do not flatter myself that I know him well, but I agree wholeheartedly with your observations. He is a very powerful wizard." Hermione was unsure what to say to this man. He clearly did not hold her blood status against her, but she was still unsure of his allegiances. Had he been a Death Eater?

"You will know him, in time. He has already shown more of himself to you in three days of marriage than he showed me in many years of friendship. Do not doubt yourself, child. You are a powerful witch. Severus would not have married you otherwise. Be good to him, Madam Snape, and he will return your affections. He will need you. This war is far from over. Now, you should be along to breakfast. Severus is a good man, but he has always been particular about punctuality. We will speak again soon, I am sure." He smiled at her slyly.

"It was very nice to meet you, Hadrian. I will do my best to take your words to heart." She smiled at him warmly as she turned away.

"Madam Snape?" Hadrian's voice called her back. "I would not mention to Severus that your pendant burned. No need for him to worry, you know." Hermione frowned at his words but nodded her agreement. _There is definitely something he isn't telling me, _she thought as she returned to her own room. _I wonder if the library has any information on protection amulets_…


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine – New World Order

"You're _late_, madam."

Severus frowned at Hermione over the letter he was reading. She _was _late: it was half past eight. Hermione huffed as she sat down at the table and began her breakfast. She looked up to find that Severus still staring at her, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Oh, erm, my apologies," she said halfheartedly. Severus thrust a small stack of envelopes toward her. She took an emerald green envelope off the top and opened it gently, retrieving a piece of heavy cream parchment. Elegant writing filled the page.

_Madam Snape, _

_I hope you are finding married life most agreeable. Severus was quite irritated yesterday at Draco's intrusion, but he assured me you are well. I expect you are taking my advice to heart; Severus is a good man, at his core. Marriage is a new state for both of you; patience and kindness will go far in deepening your magical and matrimonial bonds. _

_I assume you have accepted your invitation to tea next week at Greengrass Gardens? I will accompany you, as Severus has requested. All the pureblood wives and daughters will be there, so dress appropriately. _

_Lucius and I are hosting the state dinner next Friday, of course. I simply have nothing to wear, and knowing your trousseau as intimately as I do my own, I know you will find yourself in a similar situation. I have made appointments for us both at Twilfitt and Tattings on Monday. If Severus has no objections, I will Apparate to Prince Park Monday morning and escort you. I know he does not wish you to be out and about unaccompanied, and for good reason. _

_Yours faithfully, _

_Narcissa Malfoy _

"Narcissa has agreed to accompany me to tea next week. She wants to go shopping on Monday. She will come here and escort me, if you agree?" Hermione hated having to _ask_ for permission. It went against her very nature. Severus nodded absentmindedly, not taking his eyes off the letter he was reading.

Hermione turned her attention to her other letters. One, from that horrid witch Rita Skeeter, congratulated her on her recent nuptials and begged for an exclusive interview. Hermione rolled her eyes and set the letter aside. _Does she _really_ think I would give her an interview? After all she's done? Idiotic woman._

The remaining letters were an assortment of vapid, complimentary words from pureblood witches congratulating her on her marriage to Severus. Each parroted the virtues of her new husband, most of whom had known him as a classmate or as their Head of House. Hermione rolled her eyes at the notion of so many of the heartless bullies she had encountered at Hogwarts writing to her with such courteous niceties. She sighed heavily as she put down the last letter. She dreaded having to return this false cheerfulness with letters of her own.

The _Daily Prophet _lay in the middle of the table. Hermione reached for it. "May I?" He gave her a curt nod in reply. The headline of the _Daily Prophet _caught her eye immediately:

**Malfoy named Senior Undersecretary **

_Lucius Malfoy, member of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Board of Governors, has been appointed as Senior Undersecretary to Minister for Magic Pius Thicknesse. _

Hermione looked up at Severus sharply. "What's this?"

Severus glanced up from his letter, annoyed. "That is a paper, Madam Snape. You read it."

"I know _that_," Hermione said irritably. "What is _this_? About Malfoy becoming the new Senior Undersecretary? I thought Malfoys prided themselves on not working. And what's happened to Umbridge?"

Snape considered her questions for a moment. "The simplest answer to all your questions is that the Dark Lord wishes it, so it is done."

Hermione raised her eyebrows expectantly. After a moment, he continued. "Madam Umbridge will now hold a very… specialized position, one that I am not at liberty to discuss. Lucius has been called upon to fill her role and to allow the Dark Lord's more total control over the government. Changes will begin happening now, very quickly. This is just the beginning. The Dark Lord has a specific plan, which has been set in motion. He has grand plans for the world, but in order to achieve any of them, he must first consolidate power at home. He plans to build up Wizarding Britain, propagating pureblood ideals and increasing the magical population. Only then can put in motion his… further reaching plans."

Hermione was alarmed. "Increase the magical population… you mean he's going to force people to marry and have children?"

Severus shook his head. "Nothing so crass, no. There are other ways to achieve the same result. Incentives, intimidation… all equally effective means to achieve the same end."

"So he plans to overtake other Wizarding countries after he increases the population?"

"Yes, of course," Severus said simply.

Hermione gulped nervously. The war was really just beginning, if that was Voldemort's plan. "The Dark Lord plans to take over the world and you're his second-in-command?"

Severus nodded grimly. "I'm afraid the real war is only beginning, Hermione."

"Severus, that's incredibly dangerous. If he fails…" Hermione could not verbalize the thought that filled her mind. Her stomach dropped. _If he fails, you die._

"Hermione… my role in this war is difficult to explain. I never expected to live this long or be in this position, but here I am. I resigned myself to my fate long ago. I have known for quite some time that I would die either by the Dark Lord's hand or by his side." His eyes darkened. "Each day, my life hangs in the balance. You should know that. I am almost entirely certain that I will not live through this war. Should that happen, provisions have been made to ensure your continued protection. You will be well cared for, and, should the world return to some semblance of normalcy, you would be quite well off financially. I tell you all this, Hermione, because I want you to be prepared. It is only fair to tell you now. Should we have a child, there is a very good chance you will be raising that child on your own." He took a long drink of his coffee and looked away from her.

Her eyes filled with tears as she considered his words. He spoke so casually of death. She shivered as she tried to place herself in his position. _How would it feel to look into the face of death everyday, knowing how quickly the world could crumble around you?_ Her heart ached at the thought of this man, this solitary man, risking his life every day. She _knew_ he was fighting for the Light. He would not teach her Occlumency or conspire with Lupin if he were truly a dark wizard.

"Severus," she began slowly, "you _are_ a good man. I believe that, despite all the secrets and the lies. I don't know you well: not the real _you_. But I do know that for whatever reason, against all odds, and despite my better judgment, I care for you. I may be young and naïve and this may be a part of your master plan, but I don't think it is. I think you have good and light and love inside you." Her voice was thick with emotion. "You are a powerful wizard, Severus. Anyone can see that. You have survived this long in such a dangerous game. Don't discount yourself quite yet." She brushed a stray tear from her cheek and looked out the large open windows down the sloping lawn.

They sat together in companionable silence. There was much more she wanted to say and she knew that there was much he wanted to say. She knew he would not, however. It was not his way. In all the years she had known him, she had heard perhaps a handful of kind words escape his lips. She cared for him; that was not a lie. It was not love, certainly, and maybe not even friendship, but she felt twinges of affection towards him. She knew that this new life he had given her was far preferable to any alternative. She stifled a shudder as she remembered the leering way Lucius looked at her and the way Greyback had trailed a sharp claw down her cheek. _No_, she thought, _I do not love Severus. But I _could_ love him, someday. _

Hermione looked back at him, more critically now. He was certainly not conventionally handsome, but neither was Hermione a classic beauty. He was cruel, and callous, and quick-tempered. But, she reminded herself, he was also generous, and intelligent, and… she could not think of anything else. _Gentle_, she decided after a moment. _He can be very gentle when he is so inclined._ It wasn't often, she admitted to herself, but she could not help but recall the sweetly gentle way he had touched her last night. _Yes_, she decided,_ there is love in him. Perhaps not love for me, but there is love there. _The thought warmed her. _If we make it through this war unscathed, there might be a future here. Magical bindings cannot be undone, but if I must be bound to someone I did not choose for my entire life, he is not the worst choice. _

Hermione felt a strange tugging sensation in one corner of her mind. It was extremely gentle: almost a tickle. She looked up quickly into Severus' eyes and found him gazing at her with a pained expression on his face. _He's trying to get into my mind_, she realized. _This is what Legilimency feels like when he isn't stomping and ripping through my thoughts._ She could throw her shields up; she was confident in her abilities. A small part of her, however, wanted him to see her thoughts. She wanted him to know that she did, in all honesty, believe he was a good man. She wanted him to know that the affection she felt for him, however slight, was genuine. She wanted him to know that she _could_ love him, perhaps. She stared deeply into his eyes, pushing those thoughts toward him mentally.

Severus' expression never changed. His face remained the impassive mask he so often wore. In the smallest corner of her mind, however, she thought she heard a voice whispering to her. It did not sound exactly like Severus' voice; it did not have the biting edge his voice always carried. Rather, it sounded like what Hermione imagined Severus might have sounded like as a child. _Yes,_ she decided, _it does sound like him, but not the _him_ I know_. The voice whispered to her softly, as if it were afraid: _I could love you, too. _

She shook her head, startled. Surely he could not speak inside her mind? She had studied the concepts of Occlumency and Legilimency when Harry had first told her about it, and nowhere in her exhaustive research did any book mention communicating verbally via a Legilimency connection. _I must be imagining things_. Embarrassed, Hermione rose quickly and excused herself. Severus' unemotional face nodded slowly as he returned to his coffee.

* * *

When Hermione found herself in the library, she laughed slightly. _How appropriate. At Hogwarts the library was always my haven. It seems to be a trend. _Since Hermione was a small child, books had been her constant and faithful companions. The books had never been cruel to her. They opened a world of magic and adventure to her long before she knew of her own magic. She needed to read, now, to calm herself.

Hermione was looking for, in particular, a book about protection amulets. She was concerned with Hadrian's questioning of her pendant burning and wanted to find out as much as she could about the magical object she now wore around her neck.

Hours passed as Hermione searched. She scoured hundreds and hundreds of titles, covering every topic from History of Magic to Household Charms. Despite checking every stack and row, on both levels of the library, her search was fruitless.

_Perhaps the amulet is Dark Magic? If so, I know just the book I need_. Prior to leaving Hogwarts, Hermione had procured (stolen, more like) a truly horrid book from Professor Dumbledore's office and hidden it in her beaded bag. The large tome, bound in faded black leather, contained the evilest and most vile magic Hermione could have fathomed. It had contained explicit instructions on the creation of Horcruxes, so it had served its purpose. Horcruxes were a dark object, and Hermione was beginning to suspect that the amulet might be too. If so, the best answer would come from that book. _I'm quite sure Severus would have a copy_, she mused, _but it is most certainly in his study._ _I wonder_…

Before she could help herself, Hermione was stealing silently across the open library floor towards the door to Severus' study. She tested the door, afraid that it would be warded against her entry. To her great surprise, it opened immediately. Hermione crept inside, approaching the bookshelf behind his desk quickly.

Hermione raised her wand and whispered a spell. "_Accio 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts'!" _The heavy tome flew off the shelf and raced towards her. Hermione caught it in both hands, dropping her wand to the ground. She scrambled to retrieve it and hurried back into the library. She chose a corner in the most hidden recess of the library, hoping to have enough warning of Severus' approach to conceal the text. Hermione opened the volume, her stomach twisting nervously.

She flipped through several pages containing gruesome spells and potions before she found an index of dark objects. Finally, she found the page she was looking for:

_**Protection amulets**__ \- Genuine protection amulets are most rare and precious objects. Amulets that provide true protection are reported to absorb curses and spells designed to hurt the wearer; some are even rumored to prevent death. These amulets are goblin-made and typically feature a stone found to have particular power or significance. Protection amulets must be freely given to a wearer; those who steal such an object will face a swift death. All such amulets require a blood sacrifice in order to provide protection. Virgin blood is most potent, but other types of blood may be substituted if the sacrifice is freely given. Amulets with a strong magical lineage often strengthen the wearer's own magical gifts. A true protection amulet will never tarnish or rust; like all goblin-made items, it will only imbibe that which strengthens it. An amulet will glow anytime it is imbibed with new strength or magic. _

Hermione closed the book, feeling more confused than ever. _"Those who steal such an object will face a swift death." That must be what Severus' meant when he said it would ensure my possession of the estate if he dies. This amulet would kill anyone who tries to take it forcibly. _Hermione shivered at the thought. After seeing what months of wearing Slytherin's locket could do to a person, she was loath to wear another piece of dark magic around her neck. _Perhaps it isn't that evil,_ she pondered. _I've worn it for days and it hasn't bothered me yet. Except for the burning. "An amulet will glow anytime it is imbibed with new strength or magic." _

Hermione picked the pendant up and examined it closely. It had glowed, she recalled, the first night, when Severus had explained it to her and imbibed it with her blood. _So what new magic or strength would have been imbibed into it last night? _Hermione tried to replay the moment in her mind, fighting through the haze of sleep and wine that clouded the memory_. _Suddenly, she remembered his words, deep and husky in her ear: "You have bewitched me." She felt a tremor race through her. _Was it his magic that caused the amulet to burn last night? _

Hermione sighed and dropped the pendant. She knew more now, certainly, but Hermione still felt as though she did not have all the answers. For someone with an insatiable curiosity, that was an incredibly frustrating feeling.

* * *

Hermione's stomach growled as she closed the door to Severus' study behind her. She was lucky, she knew, to have borrowed the book and replaced it without getting caught. Severus had not disturbed her all morning, for which she was deeply grateful. She almost felt normal again, having spent the day surrounded by books.

It was almost noon, and Hermione guessed that Severus would be having lunch in the upstairs sitting room. She climbed the stairs slowly, almost dreading the end of her pretense of normality. Severus was seated near the windows in the airy room when she entered. He glanced up at her briefly before returning to his book. She helped herself to a sandwich and cup of tea before fidgeting awkwardly in her seat. _He doesn't seem angry with me for rushing out earlier, but he doesn't seem to be very happy to see me either. _

After a few minutes of silence, she ventured a question. "Have you had a pleasant morning?" Her voice sounded much stronger than she felt, for which she was grateful.

Severus sighed and closed his book. He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together, resting them in his lap. "I have, thank you, Madam Snape. And I trust you have, as well?" His voice was casual and unemotional. He did not seem particularly angry or particularly happy. This was the man she remembered from Hogwarts: apathetic about everything and everyone around him.

Hermione smiled at him, trying to push away those thoughts. "Yes, thank you. I spent the morning reading in the library."

Severus looked at her knowingly. "I'm well aware of that, madam," he said slowly. "I trust you found whatever volume you required from my study?"

Hermione's eyes widened as her stomach dropped. _He knows, oh sweet Merlin, he knows! The bastard! How does he know?_ A small part of her felt afraid, but a larger part of her was angry. _How dare he expect so much from me and not give me even the slightest freedom to read what I choose? I'm not a first year, for Merlin's sake. I'm an adult and I'm his _wife. _I can read from any bloody restricted section I wish to._

Hermione took a deep breath before she answered. "Actually, I did, thank you very much." She was pleased at how strong and confident her voice sounded.

His eyebrows shot up, and for just a moment Hermione saw the corners of his lips twitch up into that barely-there smile she had seen before. _At least he's not angry or calling me insolent._ Hermione smiled bravely at him.

Severus stared into her eyes for a moment before sighing deeply once more and turning to look out the window. "I'm afraid I must be away next week, little wife," he said. "The Dark Lord commands me to pay a visit to our friends in the north."

Hermione frowned. "Durmstrang? Why would the Dark Lord send you there?" _Karkaroff is dead. Who else would he be visiting? _

"Despite Igor's defection, there are still several in the north that are sympathetic to the Dark Lord's campaign. There are those with similar ideals that wish to ally themselves with a powerful wizard in the hopes of avoiding his wrath once his rule expands."

Hermione nodded. "Will you be away long?"

"I will depart Saturday morning and should return Wednesday afternoon. I have invited Narcissa to stay with you while I am gone," he said smoothly.

Her eyes rolled automatically. "Honestly, Severus, I think it quite unnecessary to have Narcissa chaperone me anytime you are away," she said hotly. "I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

"Be that as it may, I'm afraid I must insist. There are plenty of guest rooms, and I will feel much better knowing you have company. Were you to spend too much time alone you may find yourself… _up to something._" He smirked at her.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. _And he says _I'm_ insufferable. Bastard. _Rolling her eyes once more, she turned her attention towards her lunch.

When she finished her meal, she looked up to find Severus regarding her curiously. "Would you care to take a walk through the gardens with me, Hermione?"

* * *

Hermione quickly slipped into a sundress and returned to the sitting room. She took Severus' arm and he escorted her down the stairs and out the front doors towards the grounds. They walked arm-in-arm through the delightful Walled Garden, which was every bit as pleasing and colorful as it had appeared during her first visit.

Severus had abandoned his heavy robes for their walk through the garden; in the sunlight with his frock coat and long hair he looked as if he had stepped straight off the pages of a Jane Austen novel. Hermione shared this thought with him.

"You flatter me, madam," he replied with a smirk. "I am no stranger to Miss Austen's work, and I know most young women find wild flights of fancy within her eloquent pages."

"_You've_ read Jane Austen?" she said, looking at him skeptically as they walked.

"Of course: 'It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven year would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.'"

Hermione smiled broadly at him. "_Sense and Sensibility_," she said. "One of my favorite novels." Severus returned her smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. "It was one of my mother's favorite novels as well." _Oh, yes. His mother married a Muggle._

Severus had been very evasive about his parents and his Muggle childhood. Hermione was itching to know more about his life before Hogwarts, especially since he had been raised in the Muggle world. "How did your mother meet your father?" she queried.

"My mother was 17 and exploring the joys of adulthood and freedom. She met my father in a pub in Leeds and they married soon after." Severus' voice had that detached edge once more. _He must not have been fond of his parents. Or just his father, perhaps. _

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so nosy," Hermione replied quickly.

"You are my wife, Hermione," Severus said reassuringly. "You have every right to inquire about my parentage." He led them to a nearby bench and they sat together, their arms still intertwined. "My father was not a kind man, Hermione. He was very cruel to my mother, and to me. I do not admit that easily, or often. In truth, I only tell you this now because I wish to use your sympathies to my advantage," he said in a pained voice.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Hermione replied. "I did not know your father was unkind."

He waved his hand, as if the past did not matter. "It was a long time ago, Hermione. As I said, I only tell you this in the hopes that your misplaced sympathies will allow me to extract something else I desire from you."

Hermione gulped nervously. _Something else he desires? But I thought…_

Her thoughts were interrupted as Severus' spoke again. "I know I ask a great deal of you already. This would be but a small thing, compared to what you have already agreed to." That reassured her, and she urged him to go on.

"As I mentioned this morning, I do not expect to live to see the end of this war. You know that you will more than likely be left to raise any child we have alone. I do not ask that you sing my praises to our child; I am more realistic than that. I only request that you strive to not place the burden of your unhappiness on my child. That is a great cross for any child to bear, regardless of your anger or resentment towards me. Promise me, Hermione. Do not make my child pay for my sins."

She gasped at his words. _How could any parent do that to a child? What did his father do to him?_ Her heart ached for a moment at the thought of that small child's voice she had imagined earlier._ How could parents mistreat their own child? _

Hermione turned to face him. "Do you really think so little of me, sir?" _Does he not know me better than this? He taught me for six years; surely he cannot think me as cruel as his Slytherins. _

His brow furrowed. "What I think of you is of little importance, madam. The reality of our situation is that you may be left to raise a child who is regarded as the offspring of a traitor and a murderer. That will be no slight burden to bear, I assure you."

"Your greatly underestimate me. Not all in this world have been welcoming to me: a good many of your cohorts among them. I can assure you that not even the most scathing Rita Skeeter article could cause me to heap abuse upon a defenseless child."

Severus nodded seriously. "Thank you," he said gravely. "That will bring me a great deal of comfort in the times ahead." He rose from the bench and helped her to her feet. Taking her arm, he led her along a twisting path towards the hydrangeas.

They strolled along quietly before Hermione spoke. "I met your uncle this morning," she said simply.

"I should have known the meddlesome fool would take the first opportunity to corner you alone," he said shaking his head. "What did he want?"

"Oh, just to meet me, I think. He is very fond of you; I think he wanted to ascertain for himself that I am worthy of his dear nephew."

"I'm confident he found you more than acceptable," Severus replied. "Hadrian deeply regretted never marrying; he attempted to persuade me to avoid a similar fate. He was very pleased to hear we were wed."

"He seemed very kind. I find it very surprising he chose not to marry."

"I fear it was my mother who turned him from the idea. He was considerably older than she was, nearly 20 years her senior. He doted on her, from what I understand, and was understandably heartbroken when she eloped with a Muggle. He saw the pain and agony my grandparents endured over her choices, and swore he would never allow anyone to hurt him as deeply as she hurt their parents."

Severus looked down at her and smiled. "Such conversation is far too somber for such a beautiful day. We should speak of more pleasant topics."

"It is a beautiful day," Hermione agreed. "But I'm afraid the world is entirely somber these days. What pleasantries would you have us exchange?"

His eyes rolled in exasperation. "The world may be somber, little wife, but here in our garden we have quite a respite from the weary trials of the world. I believe you have a tea to attend next week, do you not?"

"Thursday, at Greengrass Gardens."

"Ah yes, Greengrass Gardens. I believe you will find the gardens most enchanting. They are meant to be the most beautiful in all of Britain."

As they turned to make their way back to the main house Severus spoke again. "So, madam, what urgent thought so filled that insufferable mind of yours this morning that you felt it necessary to sneak into my study?"

Hermione looked at him sideways. "Am I to understand that the great Severus Snape is, in fact, not omnipresent?"

Severus sneered. "Come now, madam, surely you know that even the most powerful wizards are not all-knowing. I simply have excellent wards on my study that alert me to any disturbances. But to the question: what were you attempting to find today?"

"I was… doing a bit of light reading."

"Go on," Severus smirked.

"Protection amulets," she said, picking up the pendant around her neck. "It seems unwise to wear an object of dark magic without understanding it's properties and possible consequences."

"A wise pursuit. Tell me, what did you find?"

"Well, the book said it would kill anyone who attempted to take it by force, but it would save the life of the wearer. Is that true?"

"More or less."

"Always so loquacious," Hermione said sarcastically.

Severus frowned at her. "The amulet has many curious properties. I do not presume to know them all. The amulet has a rich history; I'm sure its secrets will be revealed to you in time."

"_Revealed to you in time," _she thought. _How very appropriate. _


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten – The Pensieve

When Severus led Hermione to his bedroom that night, she was not surprised.

They had spent a not-unpleasant afternoon together practicing Occlumency. That was the best way Hermione could think to describe Severus: not unpleasant. He was not pleasant, exactly, but neither was he as cruel as she knew him capable of. She knew that her continual stream of questions aggravated him, just as she was aggravated by his continual evasiveness. Despite this, however, they had shared extremely intimate moments; Hermione blushed anytime she thought of their nocturnal activities in his presence.

Severus had taken her hand after dinner, as he had the past three nights. Instead of taking her into the sitting room that joined their bedrooms, he paused outside of his own door. He looked at her questioningly, and finding no fear, opened the door and led her inside. Peeking at the gold frame in one corner of the room, she was relieved to see that Hadrian had departed his portrait for the evening.

Hermione's nightgown was already laid out, waiting for her. _Clever Bitzy_, she thought to herself. Severus walked to a chest of drawers and removed his robes and cufflinks as Hermione made her way into his bathroom. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then returned to his bedroom and slipped on her nightgown. Hermione climbed into his raised bed as he finished undressing. Wearing just his shorts, he climbed into bed beside her.

They lay together uncomfortably for a moment, neither sure of what to say. Finally, Severus spoke. "You truly are a bright witch, Hermione. I meant what I told you last night."

Hermione felt herself blush, despite the dark. "Thank you, Severus," she said. "It's odd; I longed for so many years to hear those words from you. I never expected I would hear them in quite this context."

Severus chuckled quietly. "Nor did I expect to give them in such a context."

She thought for a moment before she continued. "We are quite an unlikely pair, you and I. The Half-Blood Prince and the Gryffindor Princess," she said sardonically. Severus was silent. "Unlikely," she continued, "but not entirely ill-suited, if you really think about it."

Severus rolled onto his side to look at her directly. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Well," Hermione reasoned, "you and I are both highly intelligent and extremely logical. We both enjoy academic pursuits. I would say that intellectually speaking, we are quite well-matched."

"Perhaps, but you neglect that fact that I am old enough to be your father," Severus said tightly.

"Only just," Hermione countered. "You are only nineteen years my senior, and given the extended lifespan of wizards when compared to Muggles, that is not a shocking age-difference. Mrs. Weasley told me once that Professor McGonagall and her husband were over twenty years apart in age. For Merlin's sake, even Remus and Tonks were thirteen years apart! I would venture to guess that such age-differences in the Wizarding World are not uncommon."

Severus sighed deeply. "You are correct. Particularly among purebloods, such an age-difference is typical. However, there is still the highly unethical issue of our former relationship as student and teacher."

Hermione scoffed. "I'm entirely confident that you and I are not the only former student and teacher to find themselves romantically involved. Considering that no romantic overtures were ever made between us while we were still in that capacity, I see no ethical violation at all."

Her words were met with silence. Hermione could not determine Severus' feelings on the matter. _Is he angry with me for mentioning it? Or relieved that I don't see him as a lecherous old teacher? _

Finally, he spoke. "You choose to see the best in people, Hermione: an admirable trait, but an entirely Gryffindor one. I'm afraid you have unwisely chosen to see only the parts of me you wish to see: perhaps to make this easier for you. I'm confident that you will soon learn of my… more unsavory roles within the war and current world order, at which time you may not be so inclined to offer such kind words. However… I would be unworthy of the mantle of Slytherin if I did not take advantage of your naivety," he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Severus kissed her gently, coaxing her mouth open to tease her tongue. One hand danced down her nightgown and edged the hem up slowly. He tugged the gown over her head, tossing it to the floor as he covered her body with his. "Beautiful," he murmured as he gazed appraisingly at each of her pale breasts. Dipping his head, he took one delicate nipple into his mouth and teased it exquisitely. Soft moans escaped Hermione's mouth as Severus swirled his tongue around her taut nipple. Her hands wound through his hair as she urged him on.

* * *

Afterwards, she lay with her head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. He stroked her hair gently. "I know so little about you, Severus," she said softly.

He chuckled softly. "It is heartwarming to see that your insatiable curiosity extends to topics other than Potions. What is it that you would like to know?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "How many O.W.L.s did you receive?"

Severus stiffened and ceased his gentle stroking of her hair. She looked up as he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. Hermione frowned. "And _why_ exactly is that such a ridiculous question?"

"Need I remind you, madam, that you have married a murderer, are virtually a prisoner, and are being used as a propaganda tool by a megalomaniac? Yet, your most pressing question concerns how well I scored on tests that I took over twenty years ago." He looked at her critically. "Perhaps I misjudged you. Are you truly the brightest of your age?"

Hermione sat up indignantly. "I didn't say it was the most pressing questions, thank you very much. Forgive me for trying to get to know you better. We are bound together for eternity." Her cheeks were red with embarrassment as she stepped out of his bed. She was halfway to the door before his voice stopped her.

"Nine."

She stopped, but did not turn around. He continued. "I received nine O.W.L.s. You, if I recall correctly, received ten." Hermione spun around sharply, her mouth gapping open.

"How do you know how many O.W.L.s I received?" She crossed her arms and looked at him through narrowed eyes.

Severus snorted. "As if Minerva spoke of anything else at any staff meeting the following year."

Hermione smiled slyly. "What about your N.E.W.T.s?"

"I refuse to continue this conversation with you standing in the middle of the room like some sort of house-elf. Either go back to your own room or return to bed."

She rolled her eyes. After slipping back into bed, she repeated her question. "How many?"

"Eight. Charms, Defense, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic," he counted off. "Are you fully satisfied now that you have a complete account of my academic record?"

"Yes," she said, in a voice that sounded remarkably like his. _"Your considerable intelligence will ensure my progeny are no dunderheads." _

Severus' eyebrows shot up. "Aren't you quite the saucy minx, post-coital?" Hermione chuckled in response. He gathered her back into his arms and resumed his stroking of her hair. "Sleep," he commanded.

Hermione snuggled against his chest and obliged quickly.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the open windows as Hermione yawned and rolled over lazily. She was enveloped within the warmth of sleep and Severus' familiar scent. Severus was still in the room, dressing in front of a large mirror. She watched lazily as he buttoned the multitude of buttons on his frock coat and slipped into his robes. When he caught her staring at his reflection in the mirror, he spoke. "Good morning, madam. I trust you slept well?"

Hermione pushed her wild hair out of her face. "Yes, quite," she replied.

"Excellent. Then there is no need for you to lounge about this morning, I presume?"

_Cheeky bastard. _She huffed in annoyance as she climbed out of bed.

Severus watched as she padded across the floor towards the door that led to the adjoining sitting room. She smiled slightly as she saw his eyes linger over her barely covered breasts. He looked away quickly and cleared his throat. "We will be attending church this morning, so please dress appropriately. The chapel is a short walk from here; we will leave after breakfast."

Hermione attempted to conceal her surprise. _Church?_

* * *

"Prince Park is adjacent to Upper Flagley. It is a small Wizarding village," Severus explained as they walked out the front doors.

"Yes, I've heard of it." She did not share that Ron had once suggested Upper Flagley as a potential Horcrux hiding place.

Severus raised his eyebrows, but did not press her further. They walked together down a wide path leading away from the house as he continued. "The chapel serves the residents of Upper Flagley, although it is on the grounds of the estate. Attendance is relatively low; most wizards and witches do not observe religious services other than Christmas and Easter. Still, it is my obligation as master of the estate to attend when I am in residence and able. You now share that obligation, I'm afraid."

"I don't mind," Hermione said quickly. "My parents took me to church most Sundays before I left for Hogwarts."

Severus nodded. "I am glad to know you won't mind continuing to observe the tradition should I… be unable to attend." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I had hoped that any child we had would be christened in this church."

A shiver ran through Hermione as she remembered the parson's off-color comment from her wedding day:_ 'Shall we go ahead and schedule the Christening for March 3__rd__?' _She realized Severus was watching her worriedly. "Erm… that would be acceptable," she answered meekly. Though she had resigned herself to the concept of children, a certain amount of awkwardness remained. _Severus as a father… there's a strange concept_.

They walked up the path and over a small hill. From the top of the hill Hermione could see a small stone chapel where a few people in Wizarding robes stood talking. Severus took her hand in his as they approached. "Remember, you are a dutiful pureblood wife," he whispered into her ear.

A squat middle-aged man broke off his conversation as Severus and Hermione approached. "Severus, good to see you," he said, extending his hand.

"Ulysses," Severus said coolly. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Hermione Snape," he said, resting his hand on Hermione's back.

The man smiled strangely as he took her hand. "Ulysses Flint, madam. This is my wife, Moira and my son, Marcus," he said. Her stomach dropped as she recognized the name.

On cue, Marcus Flint stepped forward. He was older than she remembered, but his face had retained the troll-like features she had known when he was a student. His large, crooked teeth were on display as he sneered at her and took her hand.

"_Madam Snape_," he said with an amused expression. His eyes trailed down her body and back up again.

"Marcus," she replied calmly. "How wonderful to see you again. I trust life outside of Hogwarts has treated you well?" It took every ounce of self-control Hermione had to be civil to him. _Foul git_, she thought to herself._ Don't think for a moment that I've forgotten how hateful you were to Harry and Oliver Wood when you were captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. _

"Almost as well as life as treated you, Madam Snape," he replied snidely.

A large woman dressed in ostentatious green robes stepped forward and vigorously shook Hermione's hand. "How very lucky you are to have captured the attention of our dear Potions Master," the woman said with a smirk. "Ulysses and I thought Severus would never take a wife."

"Ulysses and Moira were four years ahead of me in school," Severus explained. "Ulysses was a prefect while I was in Slytherin."

Ulysses chuckled. "Yes, and I taught you how to play Quidditch as well, young man! You'd do well not to forget that," he said with a kind smile toward Severus.

Hermione's jaw dropped and she turned towards her husband with an indignant look. "I never knew you played Quidditch."

"You assume I was allowed to referee a match without any knowledge of the game?" Severus snorted. "Even Dumbledore at his most senile would not have allowed that, I assure you."

"Severus was quite a Chaser," Moira said proudly, "Just like our Marcus." She reached out and patted her son's cheek. Marcus ducked out of his mother's reach with a sound of disgust.

The bells above the church began to chime as Severus escorted her into the church. He led her to a pew in the front of the small church, nodding politely to the few other families gathered.

* * *

After the service, Gerald Highland, the vicar, shook her hand enthusiastically. "So good to see you, Madam Snape," the older man said earnestly. "I'm so pleased you and your husband could join us this morning. I hope to see much more of your husband now that you are around. I always say it is this wife who influences the religious attendance for a family. And I certainly hope that you will soon have quite a family," he said with a wink and a knowing look at Severus. Hermione blushed deeply and looked at Severus beseechingly.

"Would you care to join us for luncheon, Mr. Highland?" Severus said smoothly.

The older man looked crestfallen. "Oh, how I wish I could. I've accepted an invitation to dine with the Flints, but I will certainly miss the treacle tart those elves of yours prepare, Master Snape!" He shook his head regretfully.

"Another time, then," Hermione said. _Thank goodness for the Flints. I couldn't possibly stomach an entire meal with this buffoon. _

Severus spoke casually with a few other wizards before leading her back into the bright English morning. They made their way back to Prince Park, arm in arm. "Did you find the service satisfactory, madam?" Severus asked.

"I did," Hermione replied. "I much prefer Mr. Highland when he is speaking of things other than our prospective children."

Severus snorted. "I am inclined to agree with you. He is a doddering fool."

"I think he's harmless… just meddlesome." Hermione smiled up at her husband. "The Flints live near here, I presume?" She had been thoroughly shaken by seeing Marcus. It felt rather like two worlds colliding; the world she had known as a student at Hogwarts, and the world she now inhabited.

"Just below Upper Flagley," Severus explained. "Marcus was always a nasty little worm. I never did care for the boy."

Hermione glanced at him sideways. "I find that exceptionally hard to believe," she said. You always seemed to favor him when he was a student in your house."

"Ulysses was kind to me in school; I endeavored to return the favor," he replied simply.

Hermione was silent momentarily as she thought of how to phrase her next question. "Is that why you always favored Draco as well? Because Lucius was kind to you?"

"My affection for Draco stems from a much deeper place than a returned favor," Severus replied. "Lucius was like a brother to me for many years. It was quite an honor for him to ask me to be Draco's godfather. The Wizarding population, particularly the old pureblood families, is very serious when it comes to godparents. When Draco was christened I swore an oath to protect him and care for him in any way I could; I took that oath quite seriously." He frowned slightly as he finished speaking. A flicker of sadness flashed across his face.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "Harry said… Harry told me once that you took the Unbreakable Vow to help Draco when he was told to… I mean, when the Dark Lord assigned him his task. Is that true?" She knew it was dangerous, to mention Draco's task and the ultimate conclusion, but it felt needed her growing belief that Severus was fighting for the Light, the one action she could not reconcile within herself was the Headmaster's death.

Looking at her carefully, Severus sighed deeply. "Yes," he said simply. "Bellatrix felt that evidence was needed of my loyalty to the Dark Lord. It was entirely unnecessary, I assure you. I would have assisted Draco with his task regardless of the vow." His voice was emotionless.

Hermione withdrew her arm from his and stopped suddenly. "You mean you would have killed Dumbledore anyway? Even if you hadn't taken the vow?" _How could he? Does he not feel any remorse at all for what he did? _

Severus continued his steady pace towards the house, leaving her several feet behind. The cold edge in his voice rang sharply through the air. "There is much you do not know, madam. You may continuously overestimate the depth of your own knowledge, but I assure you there is much left for you to learn. As I have told you many times now, I am a pragmatist."

Tears began to prick at Hermione's eyes as she rushed forward, desperately trying to get past him before the tears began to flow. She was a few feet ahead of him when she turned sharply on her heel and spun around to face him. Her voice was thick with emotion and tears were spilling down her cheeks. "You have said many times that you a pragmatist, _sir_, but I think the more appropriate title for you is _opportunist._"

Turning back, she hurried towards the house. She ran through the front doors and up the stairs towards her bedroom. She flung herself onto her bed and allowed the tears to flow. Her mind swirled as her chest heaved with emotion. _How could Severus have betrayed Dumbledore just to save Draco? How could he be so emotionless about murdering such a great wizard? _She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Pulling her wand from her sleeve, she conjured a non-verbal _Avis _and watched as a small flock of delicate birds appeared from her wand and flitted lazily overhead. For several quiet minutes she lay on her bed, peacefully watching the colorful magical birds swirl around the room.

The birds vanished with a sudden pop. Hermione looked around the room, startled. Severus was standing in the doorway, arms crossed angrily across his chest. "Luncheon is always served in the Glass Garden on Sundays. I expect to see you downstairs in ten minutes."

"I'm not hungry," she said hotly. She knew she was being childish, but found that in that moment she did not care.

Severus stalked toward the bed. "That was not an invitation, madam. That was a command. You are no longer a petulant child; you are my wife, and I expect your behavior to reflect your new station. I will not tolerate this foolish display of dramatics and tears every time your delicate ears hear anything insensitive. There will be no more of this insolence. I will not allow it."

Hermione sprung up from the bed and stood in front of him. She felt her own anger rising as she began to speak. "Believe it or not, sir, I am perfectly capable of hearing insensitive things without dissolving into hysterics. What I am incapable of is hearing _you_ speak of such horrors with no trace of remorse. _You _may be devoid of all emotion, but I assure you that I am not."

He took a step toward her threateningly. "I suggest you watch your tone, madam. I will not tolerate your impudence."

"Oh honestly! All I have heard about for the last month is what you and this thrice damned pureblood society will and will not tolerate." She glared at him defiantly.

Severus' voice was dangerously low as he spoke. "You forget _once again_ that I have _saved your life_, you _foolish girl._ I have made your time here as pleasant as possible thus far, but I assure you that should you continue this audacious behavior that will _cease_."

Narcissa's words flashed through her mind: _If you are cruel and callous with him, he will respond tenfold_. In spite of Narcissa's words, Hermione pressed on. "_Pleasant_? Please explain to me what you could possibly do that is worse than you have already done, sir! You already have my life and my body; what could possibly be left for you to do? Do you intend to lock me away in the attic? Am I not a _key-player_ in _your _Dark Lord's great propaganda campaign? Have you forgotten how _desperately_ you crave a son?" She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but they hung in the air between them, crackling with anger and resentment.

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared down at her. He was quiet for several long moments before he spoke. "You know," he said in a gravely calm voice, "it really is a _pity_ how many witches die in childbirth. Often no magic can save them. How unfortunate that would be." He raised one eyebrow. "Don't you agree?"

Hermione took a small step away from him; her mouth gaped open in shock. _How could he threaten such a terrible thing?_ She backed away slowly, looking at him fearfully. Her eyes filled with tears once more as she watched him spin on his heel and exit her room, slamming the door behind him. Hermione crawled back onto her bed, feeling utterly defeated.

_Would he do it? Will he really kill me if I am not the obedient pureblood wife he desires? Surely not. He can be so kind. I do feel affection for him, and I know he must feel some for me as well. I just wish I understood. I wish he would be honest with me. It would make everything so much simpler. _Her mind ran through the facts she knew, attempting to mentally inventory all that she had learned about her mysterious new husband. She knew that he desperately wanted an heir; he had made that abundantly clear. _And then I used it against him_, she thought in embarrassment. She knew that he wanted to protect her; he had told her as much. _Unless I'm not obedient,_ she thought with a shudder.

She also knew that he was not as dark as she had initially believed; he had taught her Occlumency and had been conspiring with Lupin. _But then why was he so willing to murder Dumbledore? Just to help Draco? _She knew that he cared for her, at least somewhat. He _had _saved her life, after all. And he had been kind to her: far too kind for someone who only saw her as a broodmare or an opportunity. _No_, she concluded, _he must be somewhat good. He must have had a good reason for murdering Dumbledore; more than just helping Draco. _

Hermione rushed to her mirror and wiped the tears from her cheeks. _I have to apologize to him. I need him to trust me. _Turning from the mirror, she exited her room and went down the large staircase. She expected to find him in the Glass Garden, but was surprised to see that he was not there. _Perhaps he's in his study_. Once she entered the library, she was alarmed to see the door to his study was ajar. She peeked in carefully, but the room was empty. Something on the desk caught her eye, and she eased her way into the room.

On the large carved desk sat a shallow stone basin. _A Pensieve,_ Hermione realized. The basin was covered in rough carvings and a smooth, silvery liquid floated within the bowl. _This is one of Severus' memories. Why would he leave it here? _She knew it would be terrible to view one of his memories without his permission, but before she could stop herself she had leaned down into the basin and felt herself falling through time into Severus' memory.


	12. Chapter Eleven

A/N:

1\. Some of the dialogue from this chapter is taken from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, Chapter 33: The Prince's Tale.

2\. This chapter is shorter, but it felt like a natural stopping point. The next chapter is almost finished, so it should be up within the next day.

Chapter Eleven – Dumbledore's Plan

Hermione spiraled into Severus' memory and landed on her feet. She was shocked to find herself in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was slumped in his chair, looking close to death as Severus attended to his blackened hand. Severus was speaking to Dumbledore, and Hermione moved closer to them so she could hear their conversation.

"I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being…" Severus' voice was worried; much more worried than Hermione had ever heard him before.

Dumbledore regarded his hand curiously. "You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"

There was a long pause. "I cannot tell. Maybe a year," Severus said hesitantly. "There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually; it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."

Dumbledore smiled. "I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."

"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" Severus looked angrily at an item on Dumbledore's desk. "Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"

Hermione stepped closer to inspect the object he was referring to. A cracked ring lay on the desk. _This was the ring Harry referred to. It was a Horcrux. The ring cursed Dumbledore. _

"Something like that… I was delirious, no doubt…" He sat upright in his chair. "Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."

Severus looked at him in confusion. "I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me," Dumbledore said with a smile. "His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me." Hermione was incredulous. _Dumbledore knew?_

Severus sunk down into a chair. _He looks so tired_, Hermione realized. _So terribly tired. _"The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed," Severus said with a scowl. "This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price." There was so much remorse in Severus' voice that Hermione's heart ached. _He does care for Draco_, she realized.

"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," said Dumbledore. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?" _What? _

Severus was silent for a moment. "That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan."

"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"

"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."

"And if it does fall into his grasp," said Dumbledore, "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?"

Severus nodded. Hermione's mind spun. _This was Dumbledore's plan?_

"Good. Now then," Dumbledore said, "your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you - "

"Much less since his father has lost favor. Draco blames me, he thinks I have usurped Lucius's position."

"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for the accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."

"Are you intending to let him kill you?" Severus said sardonically.

"Certainly not," Dumbledore answered. "_You_ must kill me."

_No! No. That is too much. He cannot ask that. _Hermione stepped toward Severus. She knew that it was just a memory, and he could not see or feel her, but she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. _Poor Severus. It was Dumbledore's plan all along. And I – Oh Merlin, I said he wasn't remorseful. Oh Severus, I'm so sorry. _

After a long silence, Severus spoke. "Would you like me to do it now?" he asked sarcastically. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"

Dumbledore smiled easily. "Oh, not quite yet. I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight," he said, lifting his blackened hand, "we can be sure that it will happen within a year."

"If you don't mind dying, why not let Draco do it?" Severus voice was rough, and Hermione squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"That boy's soul is not yet so damaged," Dumbledore said. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."

"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?" The pain in Severus' voice broke her heart.

"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation," said Dumbledore. "I ask this one great favor of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved – I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it." Hermione shuddered at his words. _It makes sense: so much sense. Of course Dumbledore asked him to do it. _

She watched Severus' face as he stared at the Headmaster. Dumbledore returned his stare with those piercing blue eyes. In that moment, Hermione felt her anger rise again; this time, however, it was directed toward Dumbledore. _He asked too much. No one should ask another person for this: a 'great favor' indeed. _

Finally, Severus nodded. Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Severus."

Severus rose from his chair. "If that is all, Headmaster?" Dumbledore nodded and Severus started toward the door.

"Might I ask one other thing of you, Severus?" Dumbledore called.

He turned slowly to face the Headmaster. "Perhaps," Severus said carefully.

"Your first priority is, of course, to keep an eye on young Draco," Dumbledore began. "However, I do think it prudent, though, for you to also keep on eye on Miss Granger."

_Me? Why me? _"Miss Granger? Whatever for?" Severus voice was incredulous.

"Miss Granger is a Muggle-born and the brightest witch of her age. She undermines every pureblood prejudice Voldemort has ever spouted. I fear that she will soon be in great danger."

Severus shifted uncomfortably. "I hardly think it appropriate -"

"I think we have far greater things to focus on than appearances of propriety," Dumbledore interrupted. "You can protect her, Severus. The Dark Lord may seek to repay a certain debt to you; you may be able to protect her in ways you were unable to protect -"

"_Do not even suggest such a thing,"_ Severus hissed dangerously.

"The girl is extraordinarily intelligent, Severus. Even you must have noticed that. But she's much more than that. She is kind and compassionate and always fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. In many ways, she reminds me of - "

"_Don't say her name!" _Severus face was twisted in such pain that it took Hermione's breath away.

Dumbledore stared at Severus sadly as he continued. "If the time comes when Miss Granger's life is in peril, I expect that you would… convince Voldemort of her value to you."

After a long pause, Severus nodded curtly and stalked out of the room.

The memory dissolved and Hermione found herself standing back in the sunny study. _I have to find Severus. I have to apologize. Oh Merlin, will he ever forgive me? _

"Norris!" she cried loudly.

The elf appeared with a pop. "How can Norris be of assistance, madam?" he asked, bowing deeply.

"Where is Master Snape? It is imperative I speak with him immediately!" Her voice was frantic.

Norris grimaced. "I'm afraid Master Snape was called away suddenly. He did not wish to disturb Madam Snape."

"Called away?" Hermione asked. "By whom?"

"By the Dark Lord, madam," Norris said uncomfortably. "He instructed me to serve dinner to you promptly at seven o'clock, in the Banquet Hall. Master Snape feared he might not be back in time to join you."

Hermione sank into the chair behind the desk. "Thank you, Norris," she said weakly. "That is all." The elf disappeared as Hermione walked slowly into the library to wait.

* * *

Seven o'clock came and went without Severus returning. Hermione dressed dutifully for dinner and dined alone. She felt so small and solitary in the massive hall. She picked at her dinner, feeling much too nervous to eat. Finally, she pushed herself away from the table and left the hall. Returning to the library seemed pointless, as she found she could barely focus on the words in front of her. Her harsh words from their argument that day replayed on a continuous loop in her mind, making her stomach churn with guilt and regret. _I was so cruel to him; I had no idea what Dumbledore asked of him. He _is_ a good man. He protected me because Dumbledore asked him to. Oh Merlin, please let him forgive me._ Despite her remorse, countless questions ran through her mind._ Why does the Dark Lord owe him a debt? Who did he fail to protect? _

Hermione was restless and determined to wait to Severus to return. _I must speak to him tonight_. She was pacing back and forth down the long portrait gallery. The portrait inhabitants regarded at her curiously as she stalked back and forth impatiently. Sighing, she slipped out one of the grand French doors that lined the wall opposite the portrait gallery. Huge curved arches sitting atop great stone pillars framed the expansive balcony. The balcony looked out over the park beyond the house. The world was lighted by the brightness of a waxing gibbous moon. Hermione was mesmerized by how peaceful the world looked by the gentle light of the moon. She sat in one of the many cushioned wicker chairs that ran the length of the balcony and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. She gazed out the tranquil scene for several long minutes.

"Enjoying the moonlight?" Hermione jumped up, startled by the voice beside her. Severus was leaning against one of the French doors, regarding her curiously.

"Severus!" Hermione cried as she flew to him. She threw her arms around him and held onto him tightly. His body tensed in surprise, but after a few moments he drew her into his arms. As she held him and smelled his familiar scent, her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry, Severus, I'm _so sorry_," she said thickly. "What I said to you today was horrible and I had no right. Please forgive me," she sobbed against his chest.

Severus kissed the top of her head gently. "It's alright, Hermione. I did not mean what I said to you today. I would never… I would never intentionally harm you. I hope you know that by now." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

She gripped him tighter. "Of course, I know that. I _know _you are a good person, Severus." Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself back from him and wiped her cheeks. "Severus," she began slowly, "I have to tell you something else, and I'm afraid you are going to be really angry." She grimaced slightly as she continued. "I went to look for you today, after our row. I looked for you in your study but you weren't there and I found… I found your Pensieve."

Severus crossed his arms across his chest. His features, which had looked so gentle moments before, hardened back into his usual expression of contempt. "Go on," he said icily.

"I – I saw your memory, Severus. Of you and Professor Dumbledore in his office when he asked you to… oh Merlin, Severus, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. What he asked you to do was too much."

He crossed to the edge of the balcony and stared out across the park. "I do not want your pity, madam. You should not have seen that." _At least he doesn't seem that angry_, she thought to herself.

Severus ran his hands through his hair. _He looks exhausted_, Hermione realized. His voice was weary when he spoke again. "Have you considered, madam, that there are things that I keep from you for your _protection_? Can you even begin to fathom the torturous fate that awaits us both should your Occlumency shields fail? I assure you, the Dark Lord would find that particular scene you witnessed more than traitorous. I shudder to think what would happen to us both."

"I'm not afraid, Severus," Hermione said earnestly as she crossed the balcony to stand beside him. "I don't want there to be secrets between us. I can help you; I can be there for you. You don't have to do this all alone, Severus. Please," she begged. "Please trust me. You asked me to trust you; please extend the same courtesy to me."

Severus shook his head in exasperation. "You cannot even begin to comprehend the magnitude of all the things that you cannot know. Things you cannot know _for your own protection_. You are so blinded by curiosity and your thirst for knowledge that you cannot see the consequences that wait should you continue. _Please_, for Merlin's sake, trust me when I tell you there are things you cannot know."

"Please, Severus, don't treat me like a child! You, of all people, know how adult I truly am."

"You don't understand," he said, running his hands over his face. "If I am found to be a traitor, I die. You will live, at least long enough for other plans to be put into effect. You can be spared if you are ignorant of my crimes, but if the Dark Lord finds proof of my guilt in _your_ mind, we both die."

"I'm not afraid of death," she said softly. "I was ready to die when I walked out of the Malfoy dungeons."

"And what of our child, Hermione? Would you leave our child orphaned? Or, Merlin forbid, if you are with child when your complicity is discovered? Would you condemn your child, our child, to die for my sins? I _need _you to live, Hermione," he said in such a desperate voice that she felt her heart twinge. "_Please_. Allow me to protect you."

Dumbledore's voice rang in her ears. _"You can protect her, Severus."_ Sighing, she wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned against his arm. "Alright, Severus. I promise to stop prying."

He turned and drew her against his chest. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "You know more about me than anyone in the world, Hermione. That is a very dangerous thing."

She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. "I will endeavor to be a good steward of that knowledge," she said solemnly. "I was heartbroken today, when I saw what he asked of you. It was unfair. He asked too much."

"Perhaps," Severus said, "but it is done."

"Why did he ask you to protect me?"

"He thought you needed protecting. Dumbledore exploited much of my guilt for many years. He would have made a fine Slytherin," Severus answered cryptically.

"What guilt?" Hermione pressed.

Severus was quiet for several moments before he answered. "When I was young," he said finally, "I loved a Muggle-born girl. Dumbledore hoped to exploit any lingering feelings I had for her in order to elicit my promise to protect you."

"Oh." _I never thought of Severus in love with anyone. _"Was she killed by the Dark Lord?"

"Yes." His face was expressionless once more.

Hermione held him closely. "Oh Severus." Her heart ached for this man, her husband. _What a tragic life_. _It explains so much. _Suddenly, Hermione understood his almost-obsessive need to protect her. _It would be too much_, she realized, _to lose so many to evil_.

She looked up at him to find his eyes were closed. "You're exhausted, Severus. Come to bed," she said softly. He nodded once and took her hand as she led them through the gallery and up the stairs. Hermione did not hesitate as she entered his bedroom and led him inside. They each undressed slowly and climbed into bed. Her arms curled around him and he placed a soft kiss on top of her head. "Sleep," she commanded. Hermione waited until she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest before she closed her own eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve – Twilfitt and Tattings

Hermione's stomach danced nervously during breakfast Monday morning. She pushed her porridge around listlessly as she attempted to steel her nerves. Shopping had never been her favorite pastime; she found it to be an exercise in futility. The thought of shopping with Narcissa was enough to make her stomach turn. _What a farce_, she thought to herself. _The entire country has gone to hell and I'm shopping for bloody evening wear with Narcissa Malfoy. _

Severus cleared his throat, shaking her from her reverie. "Your name has been added to my Gringotts vault. You will be able to charge your purchases at any store in Diagon Alley, but you will also be able to make a withdrawal from the vault should you need to."

"Oh, erm, right. Thank you," Hermione said uncomfortably. Narcissa had hinted at the healthy state of Severus' vault, and the vastness of the estate supported that conclusion. Despite that, she hated the idea of wasting his money on ball gowns and satin slippers.

Severus raised one eyebrow at her. "Do resist the urge to buy everything in the Alley, as I am confident Narcissa will attempt to persuade you to do."

"I assure you, sir, that is most certainly not my intention. Honestly, you must take me for a simpering idiot," she responded hotly.

He rolled his eyes at her as he took a drink of his coffee. "You, madam, have never experienced the unique circle of hell that is shopping with Narcissa Malfoy. The Dark Lord himself wouldn't stand a chance against that woman's temper when she gets into a snit."

Hermione started to reply but was silenced by the familiar flare of green flames. Narcissa stepped out of the flames and primly brushed imaginary dust off her expensively clad shoulders. Severus stood to greet her as she walked forward. "Good morning, Narcissa. I trust Lucius and Draco are well?"

Narcissa beamed at him. "Very well, thank you, Severus," she said sweetly. She kissed him chastely on the cheek and turned her attentions towards Hermione. "Hello, darling!"

Hermione had been puzzled by Narcissa's sudden warmth shortly before her wedding. It was, she decided, only because of her marriage to Severus that Narcissa made any effort at friendship. In many ways, Hermione knew that Narcissa had the emotional depth of the crystal butter dish that sat on the table before her, but Hermione was beginning to believe that her attempts at friendship, however shallow, were sincere. _Slytherins took care of their own, _she reminded herself. _Technically, I'm one of them now. _Remembering Severus' advice that friendship with Narcissa could shield her from Bellatrix's wrath, Hermione allowed the sleek woman to place a kiss on her cheek and attempted her warmest smile as Narcissa assured Severus that she would be well protected and that

Narcissa would return her to the estate immediately after their errand was complete.

"I had assumed you would be traveling in a Ministry car, given Lucius' new appointment," Severus said smoothly, arching his eyebrow in question.

Narcissa sneered as if she smelled something unpleasant. "Oh yes, that awful toad Umbridge tried to insist Lucius and I both use those _cars_," she said, as if the very idea were an affront to her person. "I don't care what enchantments they've been modified with; they aren't magical and I refuse to ride in one."

As Narcissa took her arm and Flooed them to Diagon Alley, Hermione was struck by an odd memory she had nearly forgotten. She had not ventured into Diagon Alley in nearly two years; her heart panged slightly as she recalled the last trip she had made to the Alley with the Weasleys and Harry before the start of her sixth year. They had, she recalled, had an unfortunate encounter with Draco and Narcissa at Madam Malkins. She shuddered slightly as she remembered how horrid Narcissa had been. _How ironic,_ she thought to herself as the green flames flared around her. _Now I'm returning with her_.

They spun into the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione dusted the soot from her shoulders as she let her eyes adjust to the dim light. When she could see around the room, she realized with a sinking sensation that the din and clamor of the seedy establishment had come to a halt. The patrons, she noticed with embarrassment, were staring at her intently. She recognized none of the faces that stared back at her. _Was this what Harry always felt like?_ They recognized her, of course: _Undesirable No. 2 turned Death Eater whore._ Her blush deepened as she considered what the patrons who stared at her so boldly must think of her. Regardless of their feelings, it seemed apparent that none of the patrons intended to speak to her, positively or otherwise. Narcissa steered her silently out of the dingy room and into the back courtyard that served as the entrance to the Alley.

"It's a pity the ministry hasn't reconnected all the Floos yet," Narcissa mused. "I abhor that awful hovel." With three quick taps of Narcissa's wand, the brick wall transformed into an archway and Hermione stepped through into Diagon Alley.

When Hermione had last seen Diagon Alley, the entire place had reflected the coming war; stores were boarded up, shoppers hurried along uneasily, and an aura of fear permeated the air. Though largely unpopulated, Hermione was pleased to see that the Alley looked cheerier than it had on her last excursion. Now that Voldemort was in power, it seemed, things could return to some semblance of normalcy.

They wandered through the Alley, passing several familiar shops: Eeylops Owl Emporium, Flourish and Blott's, Madam Malkin's, and Gringotts all beckoned cheerfully. Others, however, wore the dust and grim of disuse. Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was deserted still; Hermione recalled that Mr. Fortescue had gone missing the summer before her sixth year. Further down the Alley, a gleaming sign announced that Ollivander's was under new management. _I wonder if Voldemort murdered Mr. Ollivander? _

Twilfitt and Tatting's sat a few shop past Ollivander's. The shop, Hermione knew, was one of the most high-end in Diagon Alley. A gold lettered sign hung discretely above a bright red door. At their approach, the door swung open magically. Hermione followed Narcissa into the store and gasped softly as she surveyed her surroundings. Magical light flooded the room, giving the shop an open and airy feel. The walls were covered by rich cream wallpaper with metallic accents. The white marble floor contained tiny specks of gold, echoing the shine of the walls. Bolts of every imaginable type of fabric were stacked to the ceiling against a far wall. Racks of robes in a multitude of colors were on display against another. A long glass counter held plump jewels beckoning temptingly. Hermione had never indulged much in the trivial aspects of fashion, but even she was amazed by the splendid world of color and beauty she stood in.

A petite witch in a fitted black robe stepped forward and curtseyed lowly to Narcissa and Hermione. "Madam Snape, Madam Malfoy; so wonderful to see you," she said warmly.

"Hello, Clarice," Narcissa said dismissively. _I'm sure she doesn't treat shopkeepers any better than she treats her house-elves,_ Hermione thought irritably.

Hermione smiled sincerely at the young woman, attempting to compensate for Narcissa's rudeness. "Hello. It's very nice to meet you," said Hermione earnestly.

Clarice looked at her strangely before Narcissa continued. "We are both in need of dress robes for a formal dinner this Friday. I'm afraid," she said, turning around the room, "that there is absolutely nothing here that will do." She cocked her head slightly and raised one eyebrow as she stared at Clarice, inviting her to disagree.

Clarice was unfazed. "We have several gowns from Oblansk Delaney-Podmore's new collection. Follow me, please."

She led them through a curtained doorway into a brightly lit room. A large chandelier hung overhead, casting dazzling light on the dozens of gowns displayed on dress forms. Narcissa smiled genuinely, a feat that Hermione had seen rarely. "Oh, how lovely," she said breathlessly. "I adore Delaney-Podmore robes." Hermione could not argue; the gowns were indeed lovely. She walked slowly around the room, admiring the beautiful gowns. A gorgeous garden dress caught her eye: teal with metallic gold embroidery and swirling flowers. Hermione lifted the tag discretely attached to the shoulder: _Oblansk Delaney-Podmore: 197 Galleons, 10 Sickles, 14 Knuts._ She dropped the tag quickly and stepped away from the dress. _Almost a thousand pounds for a garden dress? That's outrageous. _

Narcissa scanned the room with expert speed. She chose three gowns for herself and three for Hermione. Clarice waved her wand and the gowns disappeared from the room. "Madam Snape will try hers first," Narcissa said with. Clarice led her into a sumptuous dressing room that held the gowns Narcissa had chosen.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as Clarice laced her into the gown. She stood back and appraised Hermione. "Very beautiful, madam," she said with an approving nod. With a flick of her wand, Clarice transformed the wall in front of Hermione into a mirror. The gown was a green silk, with a boat neck and sheer sleeves. Sequined embroidery danced across the bodice and down the full skirt, catching the light from the chandelier and glimmering softly. Narcissa stepped in, nodded her approval, and said, "Next."

The next gown was embroidered with gold sequins. Hermione hated it, and was relieved when Narcissa shook her head in disapproval. "Too vulgar," she said. The final gown was a heavy black silk. It was strapless, with gold designs trailing down in vine-like patterns. The gown flowed elegantly into a long train that continued the delicate gold design. "Dragon scales," Clarice explained, "dipped in gold." _How gruesome, _Hermione thought as she grimaced. "Humanely harvest, of course," Clarice added quickly. "The dragons shed them naturally."

Hermione nodded, relieved. She turned slightly, looking critically at herself in the mirror. The gown accentuated the narrowness of her waist and the gold dipped scales shimmered seductively as she turned. _It would be appropriate,_ she mused, _considering the significance of the dragon to Severus' family… But it must be terribly expensive. _She glanced at the price tag dangling under her arm and felt faint. _1500 Galleons? For a gown? Sweet Merlin! _

Narcissa stepped into the dressing and smiled. "Exquisite," she pronounced. "Madam Snape will take this one." Clarice looked at Hermione for confirmation and smiled broadly when she nodded hesitantly.

"Wonderful," she said as she helped Hermione out of the gown. "My assistant will settle your bill, Madam Snape," Clarice explained as she led Hermione back into the room. "Oh, here she is," she said, gesturing behind Hermione.

When Hermione turned around, she realized that, much to her horror, she was staring at the familiar face of Lavender Brown. They had never been close during their time at Hogwarts, but Hermione felt a rush of relief knowing that Lavender was alive. Hermione knew Lavender was a pureblood witch, but she had not heard of her fate following the Battle of Hogwarts.

Lavender's eyes were downcast; she would not look directly at Hermione. "If you would follow me, Madam Snape," she said, with no trace of recognition. Hermione's mouth was agape as she followed her old roommate into the front room. "_Lavender,_" she hissed once they were alone. "Are you alright?"

The blonde's eyes narrowed at the question. "Of course, _Madam Snape_." Her words were polite, but her tone was contemptuous.

Hermione felt the color rise in her cheeks. "Lavender," Hermione said, her tone desperate, "you don't understand!"

Lavender raised her hand, silencing Hermione. "I understand all I need to, _Madam Snape_." She looked around the room to make sure they were alone before she continued, "I've read the _Prophet_, Hermione. I know you are one of _them_. How could you? With _Professor Snape?_ How could you _sleep _with _him_?" Her face contorted in disgust. _"You deserve each other," _she hissed. _"A murderer and a whore."_

Hermione stepped back, shocked at the boldness of her words. She had known since first year that Lavender could be mean, but she had never seen this type of cold cruelty Lavender now exuded. "You should have been a Slytherin," Lavender continued contemptuously. "Choosing the winning side at the very end. Tell me, did you ask him to kill Ron, or was that his idea?"

Hermione froze. _"What?"_ she hissed. _"What did you say?"_ Her heart sank as her mind raced. _No. No, it can't be true. Severus can't have killed Ron. No. Not Severus: anyone but Severus. _

Tears filled Lavender's eyes as she spoke. "They _trusted_ you, Hermione. And what you did to all of them… and you married _him_. Did Ron mean _nothing_ to you? How could you marry his… his _murderer._"

Her mind was racing. _No, I can't believe it. Dumbledore asked Severus to kill him; there must be some explanation. It couldn't be. Severus is not a murderer._ Despite her attempts to rationalize what she had just learned, she began to feel nauseated as Lavender's words sunk in. _What if he did? What if he did kill Ron?_

Before Hermione could reply, Narcissa and Clarice stepped into the room. "All right, then?" Clarice asked with concern. Hermione attempted to smile and reassure her, but the room began to swim dangerously. She was faintly aware of Narcissa screaming as her world went black and she sunk into oblivion.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes and found that she was staring up at a familiar lilac canopy. Turning her head to the left, she realized that she was lying in the bed that, until her recent marriage, had been the one she occupied at Malfoy Manor. She sat up slowly.

"Are you alright?" a quiet voice asked from the right corner of the room, making her jump. Hermione was shocked to see Draco Malfoy sitting in a small armchair in the corner.

"What happened?" _I remember the gown with the dragon scales, and Lavender, and… oh. Severus killed Ron._

"You fainted at Twilfitt and Tattings," Draco explained. "Mother panicked and Apparated you here. She's terrified of what Snape will do if he finds out you were hurt. She was supposed to look after you."

Hermione quickly assessed herself. Aside from a growing hunger, she felt totally normal. "I'm fine," she assured Draco. "Please let her know there's no need to worry."

Draco nodded formally. "Are you alright?" he asked once more.

Hermione frowned. "Yes, as I said, I feel fine." _Has Draco gone mental? _

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Are you… _all right_? With Snape?"

_Oh! _She recalled his whispered offer before her wedding and his letter to Severus. _Could Malfoy be genuinely worried about me? What a peculiar thought. _"Erm, yes, I'm quite well. Thank you," she said earnestly. Hermione climbed out of bed and straightened her skirt. "I should be going," she said uncomfortably.

Draco stood as well. "Of course. I will let Mother know you feel well enough to return home."

A sudden thought stopped Hermione. "Draco?" she asked questioningly, "I have a question I need to ask you."

"Why do you think I would answer your question?" he said, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at her skeptically.

"Please, Draco," she said. Hermione could hear the desperation rising in her voice and watched as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Well? What is it, then?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I need to know. Did Severus…did Severus kill Ron?"

Draco blanched. "Listen, Granger, or Snape, or whatever I call you now; you should ask your husband. This isn't the type of thing you should even be asking: you're a devoted supporter of the Dark Lord now," he said warningly.

"I know he helped you," she replied quietly. "I know you were supposed to kill Dumbledore, but Severus did it for you. He saved you."

Silence stretched across the room and engulfed them both. "He _is_ a good man, Hermione," Draco said finally. "He took the Unbreakable Vow to help me. I owe him my life."

Tears began to stream down Hermione's face. "He cares about you," Draco continued. "He must, or he wouldn't be so bloody defensive about you."

_I can't believe I'm crying over Professor Snape to Draco-sodding-Malfoy_, she thought, angry with herself. "I care about him, too," she whispered.

Draco stared at her, dumbstruck. "Do you really?"

Hermione nodded as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I do. But I need to know. Please, Draco." _I have to know if he killed Ron. _

Draco stood suddenly and paced around the room. "You have to understand, Grang-, I mean, Hermione. You have to understand: what he did was merciful. The others… Aunt Bellatrix…well, it wouldn't have been so quick or painless."

The tears were coming in earnest now, great streams of tears that burst forth with a life of their own. _Lavender was right. I married the man who killed my best friend. _"Thank you, Draco," she said quietly. A small sob escaped her before she stood, wiped her face once more and stood proudly. "I should go." She turned and walked to the door.

"I meant what I said. I will try to help you, if I can. Mother will too. She and I both owe Severus a life debt. Purebloods take those seriously," Draco said softly. Hermione paused at the door and nodded without turning around.

"I may ask you to repay that, one day," she warned. Then she opened the door and was gone.

* * *

"I don't mean you should _lie_ to Severus, don't misunderstand me," Narcissa said nervously as they Flooed into the Breakfast Room. "I just thought that it would be best not to worry him."

Hermione nodded. She had never seen Narcissa as frightened as she was now. It was clear that she desperately wanted to avoid Severus finding out that Hermione had fainted during their shopping trip. _Even Narcissa is afraid of Severus, _Hermione noted. She filed that piece of information away. She smiled serenely at Narcissa. "I agree," she said conspiratorially. "No need to worry him."

Narcissa clasped her hand gently. "Thank you," she murmured. "Your dresses should be delivered tomorrow."

Hermione frowned. "Dresses? I just picked out the one."

Narcissa laughed lightly. "Clarice was so frightened of what would happen should your husband find out you fainted in her store she sent along that garden dress you admired, free of charge. You are married to a powerful man, Hermione. It has its advantages," she said with a smirk. She bid Hermione farewell with a promise to call on her tomorrow and check on her health.

Hermione sunk into one of the chairs near the window and stared out over the lush grounds. The day had been overwhelming. _Severus killed Ron. He murdered Ron. _The thought had rung through her head on endless repeat since Lavender had confronted her with the news and Draco had confirmed it. She had loved Harry like a brother, but with Ron… there had been more there. Much more, she was certain of it. Despite his having abandoned them during their Horcrux search, Hermione harbored deep feelings for him. _How long ago that seems now,_ she mused. _A lifetime ago. A different person ago. No,_ she reminded herself, _you are bound to Severus. Crying over a boy you loved won't bring him back. Maybe Draco was right… maybe Severus did it to be merciful. I would prefer a quick Killing Curse to whatever horrors Bellatrix could envision… _Her vision blurred with tears as she gave in to a rare moment of weakness and allowed herself to imagine the life that might have been.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Author's Note: I'm sorry this update has taken so long. Graduate school unfortunately interferes with my writing. Thank you for the reviews! I always appreciate your feedback. I promise updates will be posted as quickly as I can write them. I anticipate this being quite a long story... this is my first fic, so I'm just seeing where it takes itself. I genuinely appreciate you coming along for the ride.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen – An Unwelcome Guest

It took Hermione longer than she was proud of to summon the courage to go find Severus. She had promised not to pry, but she was overwhelmed by the knowledge of his role in Ron's death. As she stood outside his study, ready to knock, the door flew open.

"Enter." Severus' voice called from within the study, reminding her eerily of his mannerisms in the Potions classroom at Hogwarts.

Her head was high as she walked into his study. Severus was seated behind his desk, upon which was piled many sheets of official-looking parchment. He raised his eyebrows at her as she approached. "I trust your fitting with Narcissa was delightful? It certainly took long enough," he drawled sardonically.

A curt nod was all she offered in reply. "Should I liquidate some of our assets?" he said with a smirk. "I am no stranger to Narcissa's fondness for extravagant finery and the cost associated with such attire."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I bought a dress," she choked out. "It was terribly expensive."

Severus nodded. "I'm well aware. But I think that is not what troubles you now. Sit," he ordered, gesturing to a chair across from the expansive desk.

She sat stiffly, wringing her hands in her lap. "I wish…" She could not look at him.

"Yes?"

"I wish you had told me, Severus," she said, looking up and staring him boldly in the face. "About Ron." Her voice broke on his name.

Recognition dawned on Severus' face. "Ah… Miss Brown never could keep her mouth shut in my classroom. I'm not surprised she confronted you. Hermione, you must understand -"

She raised a hand and silenced him. "No, Severus. You should have told me." A sob escaped her. "I cared for him, Severus. I did," she continued, when she saw the pained expression on his face. "He was my friend and I loved him; you should have told me you _killed_ him."

For the first time in the seven years she had known him, Severus looked remorseful. "Did you love him? As more than a friend?" His voice was small.

"Yes," she answered tearfully. "I care for you, Severus. I won't deny that." She took a deep breath before she continued. "But I _loved_ him."

Severus nodded. "I see."

Despite her anger, Hermione felt a twinge of guilt when she saw the grim look on his face. She stood abruptly and walked behind his desk to stand in front of him. She took his hands in hers as she spoke. "I won't ask you why. I promised you I would trust you. But please, Severus, _please_ tell me what you can. It was horrid, today, to hear it from Lavender. I can handle whatever truths you have to tell me."

He looked away from her. "How can you stand to be near me? After all I've done?" he asked emotionlessly.

Gently, she reached up and touched his cheek. His eyes closed at the touch. "I believe you are good, Severus." He shook his head at her words. "You _are_ good, Severus. I know how you protected us for so many years. From Quirrell, and Lupin, and others."

"I am not a noble Gryffindor," he said contemptuously. "My motivations were not as selfless as you would like to think."

"Regardless, I am placing my trust in you. Please don't abuse that trust."

Severus looked up at her; the pain in his obsidian eyes shook her. "You know nothing of the world beyond your books and learning, Hermione. You have much to learn."

Hermione was unsure what motivated her; perhaps it was the emotional upheaval of the day, or the pain of knowing she was placing her trust and her life in Ron's murderer, or the frustration that she felt at knowing so little. Whatever her motivations were, she knew only that in that moment, she wanted to feel something different from the pain that threatened to overwhelm her; her voice was husky as she whispered, "Teach me."

Quicker than she had ever moved, she was in his lap and kissing him fiercely. "Teach me," she whispered against his ear once more. Her stomach leapt when her words elicited a soft moan from his lips. Severus kissed her throat hungrily and she fumbled to open his shirt. He slipped her jacket off quickly and tore open her blouse before nestling himself in the swell of her breasts. He kissed each in turn as she grinded against him. Just as he began to pull the cup of her bra aside, a knock sounded at the door.

Severus swore angrily as he gently pushed her off his lap and righted both their clothes with a wave of his wand. "Enter," he barked.

Norris crept in, shamefaced. "My most sincere apologies for the intrusion, Master," said Norris with a furtive glance at Hermione. "Madam Lestrange has called unexpectedly and demands an audience with Master and Madam Snape."

Severus swore once more. "Escort Madam Lestrange to the Drawing Room. Madam Snape and I will receive her shortly. And Norris? Keep an eye on her," Severus cautioned.

Norris bowed deeply and hurried from the room.

"Why is she here, Severus?" Hermione's voice was frantic.

Severus' face was grim. "I am not sure. Undoubtedly, she is here to stir up trouble to report to the Dark Lord." He gripped her arms as he spoke. "You must be the perfect submissive wife. She will attempt to provoke you; do not allow her to. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, Severus."

"Good. Bellatrix will undoubtedly attempt to penetrate your mind; keep your shields up."

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange looked, somehow, worse than she had during the war. She had grown gaunter and painfully thin, her cheekbones protruding so sharply that she looked skeletal. Her cheeks were hollowed and her eyes were wilder than ever. Expensive black dress robes hung from her frail body. Overall, her appearance reminded Hermione of photos she had seen in her Muggle history books of concentration camp victims.

Despite her emaciated appearance, her arrogance remained intact. Bellatrix was sprawled unladylike across the sofa in the Drawing Room, her wild hair cascading over her shoulders. She smirked at Hermione nastily as she and Severus entered the room.

"Bellatrix," Severus said smoothly, "what a pleasant surprise."

Fury burned in Bellatrix's eyes. "Spare me the false sentiments, Snape," she spat. "I can see through your simpering manners."

Severus looked at her skeptically. "What cause do you have to doubt me, dear Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix ignored his comment but eyed him critically. She rose from her seat and swaggered towards Hermione. "I just _had_ to come call on the new _Madam Snape_," she said mockingly. "Tell me, little girl, has he sprogged you up yet?"

Hermione took an involuntary step back. _Be the perfect pureblood wife,_ she reminded herself. "How very kind of you to call, Madam Lestrange," Hermione said with such false sweetness her teeth hurt. She took Severus' arm and looked up at him adoringly. "We are just so happy."

Bellatrix looked as though the wind had been knocked out of her. The corners of Severus' mouth turned up almost imperceptibly as he watched her reaction. Hermione was encouraged, so she continued. "Would you join us for tea, Madam Lestrange? We would be so delighted to have you."

"What a splendid idea," Severus murmured in agreement. He turned to Hermione. "Tell Mitzi we will all take our tea in the Glass Garden." Hermione nodded and exited the room.

Once she had summoned Mitzi and arranged the tea, she made her way back to the Drawing Room. She stopped just outside the door, listening to the heated conversation within.

"You don't fool me, Snape," Bellatrix hissed. "I don't know what you are playing at with that little _Mudblood_, but-"

"If you intend to come into my home and insult my wife, Bellatrix, you will find your invitation quickly revoked," Severus said unemotionally. "Even the Dark Lord would not fault me for that."

"The Dark Lord trusts you far too much!" Her voice was rising now.

"Bellatrix," he said with an exasperated sigh, "how many times must we have this conversation? You do not trust me; you have brought your concerns to the Dark Lord numerous times. He has always found your accusations to be unfounded. Need I remind you that I only entered into this marriage with his permission? His blessing? If you _doubt_ the judgment of our Master, Bellatrix, that is another matter entirely…"

"It is not our Master I doubt, Snape, it's you! Why would you marry that _child_? You may have fooled the Dark Lord into thinking it was for his benefit, but I know better!"

"_Fooled_ the Dark Lord? _Fooled _him? The greatest Legilimens the world has ever seen?"

"Don't be coy with me, Snape! Everyone knows you are a skilled Occlumens!"

"As I had to be, in order to maintain my position as a spy for the Dark Lord. I had thought that killing Albus Dumbledore would be enough to satisfy even your bloodlust, Bella. But to answer your question; yes, I married that 'child' (who, I should remind you, is older than Draco and _he _has had the Mark for two years); I married the former Miss Granger to aid the Dark Lord. The mindless masses adore a harrowing love story. She will do more to further his great cause than you could ever do."

"_Lies!" _Bellatrix screaked.

Severus' voice was calm when he spoke again. "I will not deny that I have been in want of a wife and child; the Dark Lord knows well how important it is for me to have an heir. He rewards the _faithful _and the_ loyal_. Not only is Hermione a great aid to the Dark Lord, she is _young_. So very young, in fact, that I can be assured of having an heir. It's a pity Rodolphus cannot say the same…"

Hermione heard the unmistakable sound of an object exploding. _"How dare you!"_ Bellatrix roared.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Hermione walked calmly back into the room. "Tea is served, Madam Lestrange," she said innocently.

Bellatrix spun around and looked at her murderously. For a moment, her hand flicked toward her wand before she thought better of it. She stalked toward Hermione and with a frail hand, reached out and stroked one of her thick curls. "Such a pity," she said sardonically, "that your beautiful babies will have such _filthy_ blood." Bellatrix looked over her shoulder at Severus and sneered. "You should keep a watchful eye on your young wife, Snape. I would hate for any tragedy to befall her." With one last contemptuous glare she swept out of the room.

* * *

"You did very well," Severus said as they sat down to tea in the Glass Garden. "Bellatrix did not expect you to be so congenial."

Hermione shook her head. "She's awful, Severus. Do you think she would… try anything dangerous?"

Severus took a sip of his tea before he spoke. "Not yet," he declared finally. "She fears the Dark Lord too much to risk his wrath. Be assured that she will be planting doubts in his ear any chance she gets. Her status has been lowered considerably in the Dark Lord's eyes, given her many failings in the war. She is getting more desperate. That could prove… dangerous."

"Was she unable to have children?" Hermione asked, recalling her violent reaction to Severus' insinuation.

"Yes, thank Merlin. That's one bloodline that needs to die out. Pureblood birth rates have been on the decline for several centuries. Too much inbreeding has caused infertility among the old pureblood families. And Bellatrix is not a young woman. There have been whispers… talk amongst those in our circle that Rodolphus has asked the Dark Lord's permission to set Bellatrix aside so he may take a new wife."

Hermione frowned in confusion. "But magical marriages are binding. How could he set her aside?"

Severus shifted uncomfortably. "There is a spell… a very Dark spell to unbind magical marriages. It is highly unethical," he said hesitantly. "The Dark Lord has performed the spell once before, that I have witnessed. It was successful, in a sense. The bonds were broken. The witch, however, was drained of all her magic. She became a Squib."

A twinge of pity surged through her. _Do not feel sorry for Bellatrix Lestrange,_ she told herself angrily. "That's horrible, even for her," Hermione said, taking a chocolate biscuit from the tray on the table.

"Her marriage was no love match. It, like many pureblood marriages, was arranged by her family before she even left for Hogwarts."

"How archaic." Despite the deplorable things Bellatrix had done, Hermione could not imagine how awful it would be growing up knowing you had no choice in love.

"Yes, childhood betrothals have largely fallen out of favor with the purebloods, though most marriages are still arranged. Now that the war is over, Narcissa will be on the hunt for a suitable bride for Draco."

"Not Pansy Parkinson? They always seemed close at school."

Severus poured himself another cup of tea. "I'm afraid not," he said quietly. "Miss Parkinson has been promised to Marius Nott for some time now."

"Marius Nott? Surely you don't mean Theodore's father?" Severus nodded. "He was at the Department of Mysteries," she said. "He's… what? 50 or 60, at least?"

"68," Severus answered.

Hermione blanched. "Why would he want to marry _Pansy_? She could be his granddaughter."

"Marius always liked them young," Severus said icily. "He has… had his eye on Pansy for several years."

The resentment in Severus' voice reminded her that he had been Pansy's Head of House for seven years. "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "That's terrible."

Severus stared at his biscuit. "Yes, it is most unfortunate for Miss Parkinson. There were rumors when his first wife died… Theodore had nightmares weekly during the first few years he was at Hogwarts. He confided in me once that he had seen his mother die. I never pressed… He was never eager to go home," Severus said quietly.

"I had no idea," Hermione whispered. _Poor Theodore; poor Pansy. How strange: marrying Severus has shown me a side of these people I never considered before. I wonder how many are like Theodore and Pansy; trapped in a terrible situation they cannot escape from. _

"Why are Pansy's parents marrying her to such a horrid man?"

"The Parkinson's are an old pureblood family, but, as is often the case, they are not as affluent as they once were. Marius Nott is extremely wealthy; his money will ensure their estate can survive."

Shock was written across Hermione's face. "They aren't worried about her safety?"

Severus shook his head grimly. "They are confident that if Miss Parkinson is obedient, she will be remain unharmed."

A thought occurred to Hermione; a thought so shocking that she dropped the chocolate biscuit she was eating. Her mouth was agape as she stared at him incredulously. "You could have saved her," she whispered. "You have the money and the power…you could have married her; the Dark Lord would have allowed it. But… you saved me." The thought overwhelmed her as her heart swelled with gratitude. "You saved me instead of her."

A look of guilt flashed briefly across his face. "The fate that awaited you was far darker than the one Miss Parkinson will face, I assure you."

Hermione nodded and returned to her tea. The implications of this thought were nearly incomprehensible. _Why would he save _me_? Instead of one of his Slytherins? A girl who was his ward for years? Pansy is a pureblood; she would have been a far better lady of such a great estate… So why would he chose me? When there were others to save?_

Hermione cast the thoughts aside; it was too much to consider for now.

* * *

After tea, Severus returned to pore over the parchments in his study. As Hermione made her way to the library to continue her reading, a nervous-looking Mitzi accosted her. "Madam!" Mitzi squealed, "Madam has not come to oversee the ledgers and approve the orders for this week!"

Hermione frowned in confusion. "What ledgers? I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

Mitzi rang her small hands together. "Master Severus left Mitzi in charge of the bookkeeping while he was away. But now that Madam is here, it wouldn't be proper for Mitzi to manage the household any longer. Madam must be in charge."

"Really, Mitzi, I don't think that will be necessary. You've done it this long; I'm sure you'll do a better job than I ever could," Hermione said with a kind smile.

Mitzi shook her head in disagreement. "Mitzi can't, Madam! It's not proper! Mitzi will have to iron her hands!"

"No!" said Hermione urgently. "No, Mitzi, that will not be necessary. That is _never_ necessary. I'll come down, but I'm afraid you'll have to show me how you have run things so I can learn."

Mitzi beamed at her. "Mitzi will teach Madam," she said gleefully. Taking Hermione's hand, Mitzi tugged her through the halls, down the stairs, and into the small office she ran the household from.

For hours, the pair carefully went through each detail of the household. Hermione organized menus, approved orders for the local grocers, and checked every bill that was paid out by the estate. As they worked, Hermione's hair had escaped the house-elf magic that tamed it into submission and become a bushy, unruly mess. Hermione genuinely enjoyed logic puzzles, and it had been many months since she had any type of actual work to focus on. Although her younger self would have despised managing a household, Hermione found herself deeply immersed in the records and accounts. _I must be losing my mind_, she mused as she pored over a large stack of receipts written on parchment.

"Mitzi," Hermione said thoughtfully, "have you always worked here? At Prince Park?"

Mitzi nodded gleefully. "Of course, Madam! Mitzi's mother was a house-elf here, and her mother and her mother and her mother before that! We is very proud to serve the House of Prince, and now the House of Snape!"

Hermione smiled slyly at the elf. "You know, the estate could more than afford to pay you, and all the other elv–"

"Oh no, Madam! Mitzi would never work for _pay_," she said, disgusted by the word. "Only the lowest of elves work for pay, Madam! All the elves at Prince Park are bound to you and Master Snape!"

Hermione pressed on. "But wouldn't you prefer to be free, Mitzi? You could still work here, of course."

Mitzi's eyes grew wide with fear. "M-m-m-madam," Mitzi said, her large eyes growing wider as they filled with tears, "please! Not freed! Never freed!" The elf flung herself at Hermione's feet as she began to sob. "Not freed! Please, Madam!"

It was Hermione's turn to be frantic. "Oh Mitzi, please don't cry! It's all right! You won't be freed unless you want to be!" Slowly, after many reassurances from Hermione, Mitzi returned to her normal prim and proper state.

Finally, despite Hermione's protestations, Mitzi gently but forcefully shooed the young witch from the kitchens. "If Madam isn't dressed for dinner, Master Snape will be most displeased!" Mitzi cried shrilly. "The ledgers will be waiting for Madam tomorrow," she assured the frazzled witch. With a sigh, Hermione left Mitzi's cozy office and traced her way through the vast kitchens. As she neared the staircase, a small sound startled her. Hermione paused and listened. She heard it once more; it sounded as if a small bird were… hiccupping? Looking around, she saw a large potted plant situated near the foot of the staircase. The sound was coming from behind the plant. Hermione approached hesitantly.

"_Winky?"_

The small house-elf, dressed in a ragged blue dress, was clutching a large bottle of Butterbeer. Her small head rolled around on her miniscule shoulders; the elf was clearly drunk. "Winky! Are you all right? What are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock.

Winky looked at Hermione, but her large eyes were unfocused. "Dobby?" she asked, her small voice hopeful. "Dobby is back?"

"_Winky!"_ Mitzi's voice was outraged as she raced down the corridor. "Bad Winky!" Mitzi turned to Hermione. "Mitzi is terribly sorry, Madam! The kitchen elves have tried and tried to train her but Winky just won't cooperate." She shook her head sadly.

"What is she doing here, Mitzi? I knew Winky at Hogwarts."

"Master Snape took her on," Mitzi explained frantically. "Winky was _freed_ from her family years ago! The shameless elf! She found work at Hogwarts, but when Master Snape left he took her along. Said she would just get into trouble staying there! Winky is a _very bad elf_, Madam! Mitzi hopes Madam doesn't let Winky's bad behavior sully her opinion of the Prince Park house-elves! We's never drink on the job! Never, Madam!"

Hermione smiled calmly at the frazzled elf. "I know, Mitzi. Winky just needs time, that's all. Will you take care of her?"

Mitzi bobbed a quick curtsey and snapped her fingers, causing Winky to levitate and float along the corridor. "Mitzi will put Bad Winky to bed, Madam! Bad Winky won't bother Madam anymore!" With that, Mitzi set off towards the house-elves quarters with a now snoring Winky in tow.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Author's Note: **Hello! My deepest and most heartfelt apologies for what I realize has been an inexcusably long absence… I'm the worst. I know. Since we last spoke (read?) I have finished another semester of graduate school, gotten married, moved to a new state, and moved into a new house. It's been a busy two months, but that's really no excuse. Please forgive me! I will strive to never leave you this long ever again.

I've been writing bits and pieces whenever I could sit still long enough, but it hasn't been much (my apologies again). The good news is that I now have plenty of time to write, so expect updates much more frequently. _I_ _will not abandon this story_. I solemnly swear. Rest assured; I want to explore the depths of this world. In my mind, this world will mirror Nazi Germany politically and Victorian England socially. The political similarities to Nazi Germany will begin to emerge more solidly in this chapter, particularly in the reworked political structure. So, that's where we are headed. It will take a lot of words to let this story unfold, but it will happen. Your patience and reviews are (as always) much appreciated!

* * *

Chapter Fourteen - Draco Defiant

An ominous knock came from the door. Hermione tensed; despite Severus' kindness and reassurances, part of her continuously expected him to barge into her room, incapacitate her, and drag her to Voldemort. It was Wednesday; a full week had passed since their wedding. _Honestly, _Hermione thought flippantly, _a week is longer than I anticipated surviving this marriage. _Although it had only been one week, her life was utterly unrecognizable. She had to constantly restrain herself from reflecting too much on the gravity of her situation. _Best to just keep taking one day at a time,_ she reminded herself often.

"The Dark Lord has commanded my presence," Severus explained as he entered Hermione's bedchamber. He looked harried; his usually sallow face was paler than normal.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, looking at him worriedly in her vanity mirror. In spite of her protests, Bitzy insisted on arranging her hair with Elfish magic. The small elf attempted nightly to pull her thick curls into elaborate styles that defied gravity with their towering heights. Hermione always protested, and after much negotiating they landed on a simpler style; loose curls, sleeked into submission by Bitzy's magic.

Severus frowned. "It is difficult to ascertain with the Dark Lord, but it is doubtful. He has grown… restless, recently. His prize is so nearly within his reach."

Hermione nodded grimly. "Will you be in danger?"

He shook his head, reassuring her. "As unlikely as it seems, I am likely the safest man in in Wizarding Britain. Today, at least. Should that change, you will be the first to know. Now, I will undoubtedly be away most of the evening attending to the Dark Lord. I have arranged for Draco to join you for dinner tonight. He will arrive shortly."

Hermione gulped nervously. "Oh, alright. Thank you," she said with a weak smile. Her stomach twisted apprehensively. Although she and Draco had developed a strange sort of mutual respect for each other, the idea of dinner alone with him still caused an instinctually negative reaction.

Severus looked at her critically. "Draco is my godson. He will show you every kindness and consideration. I assumed you would prefer his company here to joining the _entire_ Malfoy family for dinner, but if I am mistaken…"

She mustered a more genuine smile, wishing to reassure him. "I appreciate you inviting Draco. It will be a lovely dinner. Please be careful. I worry about you when you are with him, you know."

Severus nodded and turned to exit the room. Just before he reached the door, he turned back to face her. "May I join you when I return tonight?" he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

Hermione blushed as she realized what he meant. "Of course." They still danced around the topic of intimacy, neither fully comfortable discussing it when not enthralled in the heat of passion. Severus nodded and slipped from the room without another word.

* * *

Draco Malfoy waited at the foot of the grand staircase, looking terribly uncomfortable as Hermione made her way towards him. He bowed low when he saw her, and she could see a veneer of false courtesy slip into place. Hermione smiled kindly and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. To her surprise, he extended his arm. "Madam Snape," he said formally.

After she had fainted at Twilfitt and Tattings, they had engaged in a candid conversation, without pretense or prejudice. Today, Draco had slipped back into his pureblood royalty role. "Mr. Malfoy," she managed to reply as she took his proffered arm. _If he insists on formality, that's what he'll get._ The preposterousness of this situation was not lost on her; it bordered on hilarity. The idea that she was _married_ to Professor Snape, living in his mansion and a loyal follower of Voldemort would be enough to send her into hysterics; a gregarious Draco Malfoy escorting her to dinner in said mansion added a new layer of absurdity to the situation. Reminded of the role she had to play, she launched into labored small talk with the boy who had tormented her mercilessly since she was eleven. "It's so very kind of you to join me for dinner, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione as they walked through the great stone columns into the corridor that led to the Banquet Hall.

"It is my pleasure, Madam Snape. My parents have long considered Uncle Severus a member of our family; that familial tie now extends to you as well," he said smoothly, echoing Narcissa's words from her wedding day. Hearing Draco Malfoy express such sweet sentiments made her feel as though she were Alice, fallen down the rabbit hole in a dark, twisted Wonderland. _Nothing makes sense in this new world. Professor Snape is my husband and Draco Malfoy considers me family. Through the looking glass, indeed. _

"Your concern for me is touching," said Hermione sincerely. She had not forgotten Draco's confession that he and Narcissa each owed Severus a life debt; that information was stored away safely in her mind. Life debts were powerful magic; those bound by a life debt could be powerless to stop the repayment. She continued, "I fear not all in your family share your sentiment; your aunt called yesterday and she seemed… less than pleased at my marriage to Severus."

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. "My apologies, on behalf of my family. Aunt Bella is… unwell." To Hermione's shock, Draco looked almost sheepish.

"There is no need to apologize," Hermione assured him. "Your mother has been only kind and generous to me."

"Mother has always felt great affection for Uncle Severus," Draco confided as they walked into the Banquet Hall and took their seats. "She was very glad to finally see him wed." Their conversation was halted by the magical appearance of their dinner.

Hermione chose her words carefully as she served them each a goblet of wine. "I must admit," she said cautiously, "that I feared your family would disapprove of my marriage to Severus, given my blood status." _Let's see how he tiptoes around this topic_, she thought shrewdly to herself. _Let's see how loyal to Severus he truly is. _

He looked at her evenly and took a deep drink of wine before he spoke. "Madam Snape," he said finally, "I will not pretend that the issue has not given us all pause. However, any doubts have been nullified by the Dark Lord's support of your union. Even the staunchest pureblood supremacists cannot argue against your worth when our Master grants you his favor. All among us acknowledge that you must be a great witch, for the Dark Lord to offer you a position of favor despite your Muggle heritage."

Anger rose inside her. Even Draco, who owed Severus a life debt, could not look past her blood status. Still, Hermione was impressed by the tactfulness of his answer. He had simultaneously reinforced his reverence for Voldemort and his support of Severus. _He supports Severus_, she reminded herself. _Not me._ "What a perfectly Slytherin answer," said Hermione glibly.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You will find, _Madam Snape_," he said, emphasizing the formality of her title, "that you now live in a _Slytherin _world. You will do well to abandon your reckless Gryffindor courage and adopt the more subtle art of Slytherin tact. You will also find that Slytherins are fiercely protective of their own." With that, he drained the remainder of his wine and refilled his goblet.

"Severus is quite protective," Hermione conceded. "In fact, he is _so _protective that he questioned me about the nature of _our _relationship after you sent him that letter. He seems to think that you harbor romantic feelings for me." She was provoking him now; she knew that was foolish, but could not resist the temptation.

Draco thumped his goblet down harshly onto the table. _"Romantic _feelings?For_ you_?" he sputtered. He laughed then; a harsh, cruel sound that reminded her eerily of his Aunt Bellatrix. "Forgive me, _Madam_ Snape," he said maliciously, "for attempting to ensure that my _dear Uncle _did not rape you mercilessly and then dispose of you. I assure you, my interest in your wellbeing comes _only_ from a desire to ensure that he does not lose his favor with the Dark Lord."

Hermione paled at the brutality of his words, instantly regretting her decision to antagonize him. Tears sprang to her eyes as Draco downed another goblet of wine. They sat in uncomfortable silence for several long moments, Draco nursing his wine as Hermione stifled her tears. _How could he be so flippant about that? How can he joke about something so horrid when that could be exactly what might happen to – oh. Oh, I understand._

"_Pansy," _she whispered. "You're upset about Pansy marrying Marius Nott." It made so much sense; Draco and Pansy had clearly been a couple at Hogwarts. And since the Malfoys had fallen from favor… Pansy would go to someone else. "Draco," she said quietly, "I'm so sorry."

"I thought," said Draco, his voice deadly, "that I could use my influence over Uncle Severus to protect you from harm… and if I did that, perhaps he would protect Pansy. Marius Nott is a nasty bastard. Pure evil. He likes them _young_. And now, with his new position…" Draco trailed off hesitantly.

Hermione shivered. As much as she had despised Pansy Parkinson in school, it seemed incredibly unjust for such a young girl to be forced to marry a much older man who might abuse her. _That's exactly what happened to you, _a small voice in the back of her head reminded her. Shaking that thought away, she pondered what new position Draco spoke of, but chose to leave that topic for later. "Do you truly think he will harm her?" she asked gently.

"Of course he'll harm her," the young man replied harshly. There was a tortured look in his eyes that Hermione had never seen before. Draco looked desperate. "He _murdered _his first wife, and she was a _Crouch_ for Merlin's sake. She gave him _two children_. And he still used the Cruciatus curse on her until she went mad and flung herself out of a window just to stop the pain. He did that to his _wife_. While _her son_ watched."

A wave of nausea rolled through Hermione as she gasped at Draco's words. _Theodore Nott watched his mother be tortured to death? No wonder he had nightmares. _She was speechless. Never before had she considered the depths of evil that lurked within the Death Eater circle. She knew they were cruel and despicable to anyone they considered an outsider, but she had naively assumed that those within their circle were safe, protected from their evil.

"It's my fault," Draco whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "I failed my task. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord gave me a task and I failed and now Pansy will pay the price for my failure. I would have married her. I _wanted_ to marry her, but _he _knows that. And _he _loves nothing more than taking away the things that his followers love."

Their conversation, which had been steadily growing more dangerous, was now outright treasonous. _What would dear Aunt Bella say?_ "You mustn't give up hope, Draco," Hermione said reassuringly. Draco looked up at her, his eyes widened in shock. "I will speak to Severus. I will ask him to protect her. You should ask him, too. Tell him what you know about Marius Nott. He doesn't know. Slytherins are fiercely protective of their own, like you said. He still considers you and Pansy his, since he was your Head of House. He will want to protect her. I truly believe that."

"You will speak to Uncle Severus? For Pansy?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

_Slytherin skepticism rears its ugly head. _"I will speak to him because I don't wish to see any harm come to Pansy either," she said matter-of-factly. "Honestly, is it so hard for all Slytherins to believe that sometimes people just do nice things? Or truly care about the wellbeing of others?"

His head shook. "It always comes with a price. What's your price, Granger?"

"There is no price," she assured him with an unsuppressed eye-roll. "It's basic human decency."

Draco nodded slowly. He looked at her skeptically, as if he were waiting for her to change her mind and name a higher price. "I'm glad Uncle Severus married you, Granger." Hermione rolled her eyes once more. "No, really, I am. Not for noble Gryffindor reasons, though I am glad you're alive. I'm glad he married you because if he hadn't, I'm afraid he would have sought the Dark Lord's permission to marry Pansy, to protect her from Nott. Seeing Pansy married to Uncle Severus would have killed me."

It was, Hermione realized, the most honest thing Draco Malfoy had ever said to her.

* * *

"So what's Uncle Sev _really _like? When he's not hiding behind that bloody mask of indifference?" Draco queried. His speech was beginning to slur; though the conversation had shifted, the pace of his wine consumption had not. Hermione got the distinct impression that his mother moderated the amount of wine he was allowed at home.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione said hesitantly. Despite Draco's candidness in their earlier conversation, she was still wary of revealing too much to him.

"Of course you do," Draco encouraged. "You've been married for what, a week? And already he's more protective and possessive of you than he's ever been of anyone. There must be something there. Something you see, that everyone else doesn't."

_In vino veritas, _Hermione mused. _In wine there is truth_."Severus is a powerful wizard," she replied demurely. "Historically speaking, it's natural for powerful men to be possessive and protective of the things they consider theirs." _Better to allow Draco to think Severus sees me as his property. At least until I know I can actually trust him._

That answer seemed to satisfy Draco; he nodded vaguely. "I suppose that's true." He thought for a moment. "The rumor is he wants an heir. They say that's why he picked you. He knows how low birth rates are among purebloods. Since you're a Mud- I mean Muggle-born, you'll be easier to… well, you know."

Hermione blushed. _I can't believe Draco-sodding-Malfoy has been discussing the state of my reproductive system with other Death Eaters_. "That's really none of anyone's business," she replied hotly.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "Yet another nuance of the pureblood world you fail to understand. Birth rates are low among pureblood families. _Everyone_ talks about it in private, though no one would ever admit it. Inability to provide an heir is a dangerous thing. Pureblood wives who fail to produce an heir risk being set aside." His eyes darkened. "Do you know what happens to witches whose husbands unbind them?"

"Severus explained it to me," said Hermione as she shifted uncomfortably. "It drains them of their magic."

Draco nodded, but did not say anymore on the subject. Hermione wasn't sure if his words were meant to be a warning to her or a hint at the fate that might await Bellatrix.

They sat in silence for a moment, each contemplating the dangerous world they lived in. Draco stared pensively into the fire roaring in the massive fireplace at the far end of the room. "If you do have a child," he whispered without taking his eyes away from the fire, "_run. _Run _far away_, Granger. They'll take your child and make him cruel. They'll exploit the love you have for him; the love that he has for you. They'll destroy him from the inside out. And you won't be able to do anything to stop them." He stared at the fire intently, in an almost trance-like state.

His words touched the steeliness inside her that remained prejudiced against him. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine how hard Narcissa must have tried to shield him from the cruelty of their world. She imagined the helplessness Narcissa must have felt, seeing her only child given an impossible task that he was meant to fail. She imagined how helpless Draco felt now, unable to save the girl he loved. _Voldemort's brutality knows no bounds. _She felt her old prejudices begin to melt away as she looked at Draco Malfoy and truly saw him for what he was: a scared young man who was born into a world where he was never given any choice. A young man who was raised to value blood purity the same way Hermione had been raised to value intelligence. _A product of his environment_, she mused.

She was still lost in her thoughts when Draco coughed; breaking the quiet reverie they shared. He looked around the room, seeming to be almost startled as he took in his surroundings. Hermione watched as his veneer of pureblood formality slipped back into place once more. "Shall we retire to the library, Madam Snape?" he asked, enunciating his words carefully in an attempt to cover his inebriated state.

Hermione smiled and nodded. As she had learned during her seemingly endless hours of tutelage under Narcissa, Firewhisky and cigars were always offered to wizards after a formal meal. She allowed her own veneer of courtesy and formality to slip into place as Draco escorted her through the candlelit halls into the welcoming library. Firewhisky and cigars waited on a sideboard; Hermione was not surprised when Draco helped himself to a large glass of the amber liquid. Her mind worked quickly, determining a way she could use Draco's intoxicated state to her advantage. What Hermione wanted more than anything was knowledge; she wanted to know Voldemort's plans.

"You must be very proud of your father," she began conversationally. "I was thrilled to hear of his appointment as Senior Undersecretary."

Draco snorted into his drink. "Come now, Madam Snape," he said condescendingly. "Surely you understand enough about politics to understand what is happening here. Or are you not truly the 'brightest witch of your age?'" He stared at her in mock horror.

_How wonderfully easy, _she thought to herself. "I'm afraid that recent circumstances have prevented me from closely following the current political climate," she replied carefully. "Perhaps it is, as you said before, 'yet another nuance of pureblood culture' that I fail to understand." Her words were demure, but the challenging look she shot him fully conveyed her meaning. "Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?"

Hermione stifled a laugh as she watched Draco sit up straighter in his chair; his chest slightly puffed. _Malfoy has always loved having information others want._ "Well, I'm sure even _you _know that Thicknesse is a puppet Minister; a figurehead. His credentials and susceptibility made him a believable choice for Minister during the War. But, of course, now that the Dark Lord is victorious and Potter is dead, there is no need for him anymore. My father has been installed as Senior Undersecretary to… ease the transition, so to speak."

"How very interesting," Hermione said, feigning ignorance. "Will your father be the next Minister?" She knew that was not the case, but Hermione had known Draco long enough to know that he loved correcting others.

"Of course not! The Dark Lord will assume control officially," Draco said, as if it were obvious. At her silence, he continued. "My father will, however, continue to serve as a member of his cabinet."

_Voldemort's cabinet… that must be Nott's new position that he mentioned earlier. I wonder who else will be trusted enough to serve under him? _She mentally ran through the list of Death Eaters she knew. Fortunately, her continued silence prompted Draco once more. "I overheard Father and Aunt Bella speaking today," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Aunt Bella said the Dark Lord is going to install himself as Lord Chancellor." He considered his words for a moment before turning and eyeing her suspiciously. "Why hasn't Uncle Severus mentioned this to you? Father said he was to become –"

"How intriguing, Mr. Malfoy," drawled a silky voice near the library door. Draco and Hermione both jumped. Their faces shared similar looks of horror as they turned to see Severus standing imposingly near the door with his arms crossed. "What a pity," he said as he advanced towards Draco. "I have been laboring under a misapprehension that my _wife_ was the one with a reputation for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Draco gulped nervously as he stared up at Severus' angry face. "U-uncle Severus!" he stammered fearfully.

Severus raised one eyebrow at the younger man. "As much as it grieves me to interrupt what I'm sure would have been an enthralling exploration of the Dark Lord's _secret_ plans, I believe it is time for Mr. Malfoy to return home. Do say goodnight, Madam Snape."

Hermione stood uneasily. "Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy," she spluttered formally. "Thank you for your company tonight."

Draco stood hastily and, with a quick bow, hurried towards the door, followed closely by Severus. "Wait here, madam," Severus hissed at her before swooping from the room.

Hermione flopped down heavily onto the plush sofa and wrung her hands apprehensively. _He seems extremely angry_, she mused as her stomach twisted nervously. _Perhaps it was unwise to push Draco into revealing information about Voldemort's plans. From what he said, though, the plans will be common knowledge soon enough, so I can't fathom why Severus is so secretive about it all. _

The slamming of the door interrupted her thoughts. Once again, Severus stood in the corner, dark and imposing, with a thunderous glare upon his face. "Tell me, madam," he snarled as he stalked towards her, "how many times must I chastise you for your insistent meddling? Are you incapable of restraining yourself from relentlessly seeking information to which you _should not be privy_?" His voice was harsh and disapproving.

"Severus, I didn't mean to –"

"_Don't lie to me,"_ he hissed as he flew towards her. "Do you even realize how close you _both _were to committing treason? The Dark Lord has murdered for less!"

"It wasn't treason!" Hermione insisted. "We were just talking and Draco mentioned –"

"You were recklessly snooping for information that I have repeatedly told you was _not_ any of your business!" He was frighteningly close to her now. Hermione could see the anger flashing in his eyes. "What exactly are you attempting to accomplish? Do you think you can outsmart the Dark Lord once you know of his plans? Do you take me for a fool, madam? Have you cooked up some _clever_ scheme in that ridiculous mind of yours?"

A small voice in her head reminded her of how effective her previous attempts at disarming him had been. That voice, however, was silenced by her anger, rising up at his insinuations. "Is that what you think?" she asked angrily. Hermione stood suddenly and looked him in the eye. "Your insistence on concealing information from me is maddening! Even Draco-sodding-Malfoy thinks the information isn't _that_ secretive! I understand you want to keep things from me for my protection, but this is outrageous! How can I be prepared for this new world if you won't even tell me what the world looks like outside of this estate?"

Severus flinched, as though her words had struck him physically. He turned away from her and, taking the bottle of Blishen's from the sideboard, poured himself a tumbler of Firewhisky. Hermione watched with trepidation as he sat down on the sofa across from her, ran his hand over his face and took a large drink. "It seems," he said finally, "that your insatiable curiosity has proven to be more of a liability than I anticipated. I will indulge your curiosity tonight, against my better judgment. You may ask questions, though I may refuse to answer at my discretion. Proceed." Hermione gaped at him openmouthed. After several long moments, Severus continued. "Has one evening with Mr. Malfoy rendered you incapable of rational thought?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

His remark shook Hermione from her stupor. "Thank you," she said uncertainly as she sank back down onto the sofa. "I understand there are several things you can't answer, or won't answer, as it were. I won't waste your time with those questions." His gracious nod in reply prompted her to continue. "That being said… I do have several questions I hope you will answer."

"Do get on with it then," he drawled crossly.

Hermione took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. "Draco speculated that, had you not married me, you would have married Pansy Parkinson."

Severus stared at her a moment. "That is not a question, madam, but a statement."

"Is that true? Would you have married Pansy, I mean."

"Yes. Do not misunderstand me; the thought of marrying any student has never appealed to me at all," he said, with a pointed look at her. Hermione blushed. "However, I would have wed Miss Parkinson out of obligation. As her former Head of House, I felt duty-bound to protect her."

Hermione considered his words for a moment. "Then why did you marry me instead? I wasn't in your House. You had no obligation to protect me."

Severus rolled his eyes. "As I have already explained to you, the fate that awaited you was far darker than the one that awaits Miss Parkinson."

"Draco told me that the other Death Eaters assume you chose me because I'm not a Pureblood; that I am more likely to conceive a child because I'm a Muggle-born."

"Once again, that is not a question," he replied petulantly.

"Did you marry me _solely _because you want an heir?" she asked exasperatedly.

Severus stared at her for a moment, and then looked away. "Pureblood birth rates are notoriously low. That is no secret. However… given that I am a half-blood that was not as much of a concern. You are unquestionably the brightest witch I have ever met. To say that your considerable intelligence and magical abilities were not a factor in my choice would be untrue. I rarely make decisions rashly, and I assure you that saving your life by marrying you was not a decision I made lightly. I am a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. There were many reasons I chose to save you. My desire for an heir was among them. But… that was not the only consideration."

His words washed over her. _He thinks I'm the brightest witch he's ever met! _The teenage girl within her flushed with pride at the compliment. She was tempted to delve deeper into the other considerations he mentioned, but decided against it. _One step at a time_, she reminded herself. "Thank you," she said softly.

Severus nodded and looked back at her. "If you have other questions you insist on finding answers to, I suggest you do so quickly. I do not have all night to sit around satisfying your damnable curiosity."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Hermione's mouth. _He truly is terrible at expressing emotions. Anytime he becomes even slightly vulnerable he lashes out_. "Fine," she replied. "Draco said the Dark Lord will install himself as Lord Chancellor and appoint a cabinet to assist with his rule of the country. Is that true?"

"That is a grossly oversimplified explanation of things, but yes. The Dark Lord will soon be Lord Chancellor and officially assume total control over the country."

"Where do you factor into this?"

"I will serve as a member of the cabinet," he replied vaguely.

"As?"

"Minister of Foreign Affairs."

"Minister of Foreign Affairs," she repeated contemplatively. "So you'll be travelling often?"

Severus sighed heavily. "As duty requires, yes. You will accompany me occasionally, depending on your health and the desired outcome of the visits. We will often host foreign Wizarding delegations here, as well."

Not wishing to lose her opportunity to interrogate her husband, Hermione filed that information away to be considered later. "Who else will serve on the cabinet?"

"Marius Nott will serve as Minister of the Interior. Lucius Malfoy will serve as Minister of Propaganda. Quentin Rosier will serve as Minister of Economics. Those are all the appointments the Dark Lord has decided on for now. There are other appointments that will come later."

She stifled a laugh. _Lucius Malfoy as Minister of Propaganda seems entirely too fitting._ "Will Dolores Umbridge be a cabinet member?"

Severus shook his head. "On the contrary, Madam Umbridge will serve under Marius Nott as Head of the Department of Marriage and Family Affairs. It is an entirely new department."

"I suppose that could be worse," Hermione mused. "But if she is there, who will take over as Head of the Muggle-born Registration Committee?"

Severus' face darkened. "There will no longer be a Muggle-born Registration Committee."

"What do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord no longer needs to hide behind governmental formalities. This is a totalitarian state now. Muggle-borns will no longer be given the privilege of investigation into their blood status. Alternative solutions will be found."

Icy fear griped Hermione. _Alternative solutions?_ "What type of alternative solutions?" she asked uneasily.

"That is where our questioning will cease for tonight. I am not at liberty to discuss that, for both of our safety," Severus said, his voice deadly. Hermione was not tempted to press him.

They sat together in silence. Finally, Hermione spoke. "Will I also be subject to these 'alternative solutions'?"

Severus bristled visibly. "Don't be ridiculous," he spat. "You are my wife. Have I not vowed to protect you?"

Hermione sat on the sofa, feeling the warmth of the fire that burned cheerfully. It suddenly felt incredibly wrong; to be living in opulence in her proverbial ivory tower while others Muggle-borns were so close to a horrible but-unnamed fate. Her Gryffindor instincts roared; she was tempted to do something, anything, to save those that she could. Her highly logical mind, however, reminded her that any rash bravery would come at immense cost to Severus. "I am beginning to think," she said slowly, "that your protection will come at a great cost to us both… in the end."

Severus laughed; a sharp, cruel laugh, so unlike the laugh she had heard earlier that week over breakfast. "Without my protection, you would have met your end weeks ago. Remember that whenever you feel tempted to do anything _ridiculously Gryffindor_."

They sat in silence for a long time after that, each unable or unwilling to admit their fear.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

**Author's Note:** Has it already been a month? Geez, I'm the worst. Apologies again. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow to compensate for my worst-ness. As always, I adore each of you and your lovely reviews. Thanks for sticking around. Here we're continuing the scene from the last chapter. This chapter gets a little strange… but strange works for this pair, I think. I've included some history/theories/cultural ideas in this chapter as well; mostly inspired by Celtic Neopaganism. All my information comes from Wikipedia, so feel free to poke holes in the logic here. If you have thoughts/ideas on anything pureblood culture related, please let me know via review or PM. I'd love to hear your thoughts on what this insular world would look like.

* * *

"When will the Dark Lord install himself as Lord Chancellor?" Hermione asked as they ascended the stone staircase.

"Soon," Severus said seriously. He suddenly looked very tired, as if the prospect weighed heavily on his mind. "At Midsummer."

"The summer solstice? Why?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"The Dark Lord has developed a grudging respect for the old ways, in an attempt, I think, to avoid his great folly on that fateful night with a young Mr. Potter. He is more… superstitious than before." He reached the second floor landing and proceeded through the heavily carved door into his bedroom.

Hermione followed him automatically. "But he's always believed in Divination, hasn't he? Harry said if the Dark Lord hadn't chosen to act on the prophecy, it never would have come true," she said as she entered his bedroom behind him.

"An answer undoubtedly fed to him by the Headmaster," Severus said bitterly, untying the black cravat around his neck. "Albus Dumbledore and I disagreed on many fundamental things; prophecies and destiny amongst them."

"_You_ believe in prophecies? And Divination?" she asked incredulously as she flung herself into an armchair by the fire.

"I _respect_ all aspects of Divination; prophecies included," Severus corrected. "I do not expect so closed-minded would understand. You have no respect for Divination."

Hermione chose to ignore his insult. "I have no respect for Sybil Trelawney," she corrected.

Severus raised one eyebrow in surprise. "You doubt her abilities as a Seer?"

"The woman is a complete fraud," Hermione said earnestly. "Honestly, I cannot believe I wasted so much time in her idiotic classroom studying tealeaves and crystal balls. How utterly ridiculous."

"Sybil Trelawney may be many things, but let me assure you: a fraud she is not. Do you know so little of her illustrious ancestry?"

"What ancestry?" Hermione asked, intrigued. She had never given Sybil Trelawney much thought since the day she had stormed out of Divination in her third year; apart from her overenthusiasm for sherry, which had become painfully noticeable since Firenze joined the Hogwarts staff.

Severus sighed. "It is a pity you never chose to take Ancient Studies. Where does History of Magic begin for first years?" he asked, slipping back into his Potions Master tone.

"With Merlin," she replied automatically. "The father of magic, builder of Stonehenge, lover of Nimue. Every first year knows about Merlin. "

"The father of _modern_ magic, perhaps. Merlin was not the originator of magic; he was simply the first wizard to master the many disciplines of magic."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? Nothing I've read has ever mentioned -"

"Your childish belief that anything _you_ have not read simply does not exist is unflattering to a woman of your standing," he snapped, irritated by her interruption. "Muggles did not simply discover a spellbook one day, pick up a wand, and begin casting spells. Magic formed organically; first came elemental magic, accidental magic similar to what is observed in magical children today. It was powerful magic, but raw. It was… unpredictable. Unstable. Difficult to control."

"So Merlin was the first one to discover how to control magic?" she interrupted excitedly.

"Certainly not," Severus snapped. "Each branch of magic has a progenitor; practitioners of magic who harnessed their power and were able to channel it for a specific purpose."

"Who are these progenitors?"

"Take Ancient Runes," he asked, many years of teaching making it difficult for him to answer questions without first testing his pupil's knowledge. "What do you know about the history of runes?"

"Well," she said, chewing on her lower lip as she thought, "we learn the Elder Futhark runes early on, and those were used by Germanic tribes… so if runes are Germanic… the only Norse progenitor I can imagine for Ancient Runes would be… Odin? Odin and his eighteen spells?"

The hint of a smile touched Severus' lips. "Ten points to Gryffindor," he said with a smirk. "You are correct. Odin, who hanged himself from the Yggdrasil for nine days and nights, pierced by his own sword. For his suffering, he was rewarded with 18 magical songs and 18 magical runes. The same runes you studied."

"But Odin was a God. Not a wizard."

Severus frowned. "Do you really think ancient Muggles knew the difference between wizards and gods? Had you lived in a remote Celtic village two thousand years ago, you would have been feared and worshipped for your magic. They would have held festivals in your honor, sung praises about your beauty and power. When you died, you would have become a goddess they worshiped. Since the beginning of time Muggles have had a disturbing inclination to explain things they cannot comprehend as supernatural. It is beyond their powers of thinking to accept magic as existing in the natural world."

"Fascinating," Hermione breathed as her mind turned. "So _every_ discipline of magic has a progenitor?

"Obviously," Severus drawled, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Who are the other progenitors?"

"Need I remind you that I no longer suffer the unfortunate obligation of being your professor? There are several books in the library on Ancient Studies you may read if you wish to learn more."

Hermione sighed in frustration. "But what's all this have to do with Sybil Trelawney, then?"

"How well do you know Greek mythology?" he countered.

Hermione frowned. "Only what little I've read. I've never taken a class that studied it… would I be correct in assuming it is a topic covered in Ancient Studies?" She bit her lower lip. "I _knew _I should have taken that but it was at the same time as Advanced Arithmancy and since all the Time Turners were destroyed Professor McGonagall said it would be impossible but I should've-"

"Are you aware that you talk incessantly?" Severus interrupted.

"Oh," Hermione said with a blush. "I suppose I _am_ aware, I mean, my mother always said-" She stopped herself at a pointed look from Severus. "Sorry. So what's this to do with Sybil Trelawney?"

"Come now, surely you cannot expect me to just give you every answer? No, I'm afraid you'll have to discover those on your own. I will compile a list of books for you to read while I'm away; we can continue this discussion when you are no longer unbearable ignorant."

"I'm _not _ignorant!" Hermione protested hotly. "Just because I don't know some trivial details about an obscure subject does not make me uneducated!"

"Obscure subject? Your lack of perceptiveness is truly astounding," Severus drawled. "Tell me; what holidays and festivals do the purebloods celebrate?"

"Halloween, Christmas, Easter," she said automatically. "We celebrated those at school."

"And?"

"And? What, does the Wizarding World celebrate Boxing Day? Do you have some sort of Wizarding bank holiday?"

"Of course not," he said sharply. "Goblins do not take _holidays_."

"What, then?"

"The old pureblood families celebrate the holidays of their ancestors: Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lughnasadh, Mabon, Samhaim, and Yule."

"But Narcissa never mentioned those!" Hermione leapt from her seat as she protested. "I've never even _heard_ of some of them!"

Severus glared at her. "Once again; _your_ ignorance on a subject does not render the subject nonexistent. I do not find it surprising at all Narcissa failed to explain these holidays to you. Would you find it necessary to explain Christmas to anyone? Easter? Of course not: you assume these are commonplace enough to be known to everyone. Narcissa was raised with these traditions. It would boggle her mind to know you were unaware of them."

"But they celebrate Christmas and Easter!" she insisted, her voice becoming shrill. The depth of her unfamiliarity with this world was deeply unsettling for her.

"Observing Christian holidays does not preclude one from also celebrating Pagan holidays. You would be much better off if you used your keen mind to _think_ for once, instead of mindlessly reciting whatever verbatim definition you gleaned from your texts."

Stung by his words, Hermione sank back into her chair. "Did I really bother you that much? In class, I mean?" Her voice was small.

"Yes," he replied simply. "You did."

Hermione's cheeks burned. "Oh," she said quietly.

Severus sighed impatiently. "When I first met you, you were a bossy twelve year old desperate for approval. Your insistence at answering every question with an answer parroted directly from the text did a great disservice to your true intellectual capabilities."

She considered his words. "What do you mean?"

"Memorizing information is the most basic form of learning. It shows no real evidence of critical thinking or thought. It was – it _is_ – extremely frustrating to watch someone with your innate ability mindlessly memorize text instead of using your considerable intellectual skill to form conclusions of your own."

His words stung; she was unsure if her hurt feelings were magnified or diminished by the intimacy they had shared.

"Furthermore," he said, unbuttoning his heavy coat, "your unrelenting attempt to answer every question rendered your peers especially lazy in my class, and your other classes, I suspect. Had you stopped talking and learned to listen earlier in your schooling you would have been far better off."

Hermione reflected on his words. "I see," she said finally. "I always just assumed you hated me because I was friends with Harry."

Severus stiffened at the name. "Your association with Misters Potter and Weasley did not raise my opinion of you, I will admit."

"Why did you hate Harry?"

"Mister Potter was an arrogant dunderhead whose rash impulsiveness and inability to use his mind cost many innocent lives."

"_Don't," _Hermione said as she stood angrily.

Severus whirled around. "You would defend him? After all that happened to you purely by association with him?"

"Harry is a _hero_," she hissed at him. "_He_ gave his life to fight for his convictions. _He _was no coward," she spat. She turned towards the door, fully intending to leave him alone to brood.

A strong arm grabbed her arm roughly and yanked her around to face him. "Your beloved Potter died a painful death at the hands of the Dark Lord. If you truly believe his death so _heroic_, I assure you; the same fate can be arranged for you. You need only _ask_." His voice was deadly. "And if you ever again suggest _I_ am a coward, I will feel no remorse in making your life extremely unpleasant."

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear before, Mr. Rochester," she hissed as she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. "I've resigned myself to the idea that you'll lock me in the attic before this farce of a marriage is over."

"_Don't tempt me,"_ Severus shot back, staring down at her angrily. He looked quite strange in just his white shirt and trousers; somehow, without the heavy coat and robes she found him much less intimidating.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you going to stand there and brood all night? It's been a rather long day and _I _would quite like to go to bed," she said sternly, crossing her arms petulantly.

"I did not realize my assistance was required in order for you to retire for the evening."

"Oh," Hermione said as she blushed, "But you asked earlier if you could…" She trailed off, unable to verbalize her thoughts.

A nasty smile spread across Severus' sallow face. "Should you desire my affections, madam, you need only ask. I will be more than happy to oblige you."

"That's not what – Oh! You insufferable man! Honestly, are you always this irritable after an evening spent with the Dark Lord?"

"Contrary to what you may believe, an evening spent in the company of a homicidal megalomaniac with plans for world domination is not what I generally consider a _pleasant_ time."

Laughter burst forth from Hermione unexpectedly. The ridiculousness of the evening was too much, and before she could stop herself she dissolved into peals of laughter. The look of disgusted horror on Severus' face only served to send her further into hysteria.

When she finally regained control of her senses, she found him staring at her in disbelief. "Have you gone mad?" he asked cautiously. "I _will_ have to lock you in the attic if you've lost your mind."

"I'm not nearly as weak as you think me," she responded in an exasperated tone. "Honestly, I don't know where you got this notion of me as some delicate creature who needs your constant protection. It may have escaped your notice, but over the years I've stolen from your personal storeroom, helped Sirius Black escape the Dementor's Kiss, organized a secret defense organization, broke into the Ministry and escaped from an alarming number of Death Eaters on several occasions."

"Yes," he drawled sardonically, "your list of juvenile transgressions is quite impressive." At the hurt look on her face, he sighed and drew her into his arms. "You're alive, which is an accomplishment. But until now you've been a child fighting to survive in a very adult world. Now you have no choice but to be an adult." He lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. "Sometimes I look at you and I still see that strange child you were at twelve; all bushy hair and large teeth and incessant chatter." He kissed the top of her head quickly. "Someone has to shield you from the dangers lurking in this world."

"I'm not that girl anymore," Hermione protested.

"Perhaps not," Severus agreed. "But you are still far from the woman I hope you will become. You are more powerful than you know. I wish…" he trailed off.

"What?"

"I wish I could live long enough to see you become that woman. I could teach you many great things. I could show you power beyond your wildest imagination," he purred. There was a seductiveness to his voice, as if something dark lurked just below the surface. "I am, after all, a Dark wizard."

"You aren't a Dark wizard," she insisted gently, mesmerized by the inky depths of his eyes.

"Oh, but I am," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "All great wizards are."

"No," she whispered back, "you're not."

"Yes, I am," he repeated. "Let me show you." He swept her easily into his arms and carried her over to the large bed. "You shouldn't underestimate me, madam," he purred against her ear as he set her gently on the bed. "I assure you; I can be _very _dark."

"Prove it," she murmured.

One eyebrow rose at her challenge. "Allow me to illustrate."

Severus kissed her again; rough, forceful kisses that left her breathless. He pinned her hands above her head as he kissed her, holding her captive. When her lips were bruised, he moved his mouth down her neck, kissing every inch of her skin before moving up to place a gentle kiss just behind her ear. _"Incarcerous,"_ he murmured into her ear before biting her earlobe gently. At his command, thin cords appeared and bound her hands together above her head. Severus chuckled darkly at her shocked expression.

"Never challenge a Dark wizard," he purred before his elegant fingers began unbuttoning her blouse. Once the task was complete, the opened her shirt and sat back on his knees, taking in the sight of her bound and exposed, her restrained arms giving him an exceptional view of her breasts. "Perfection," he said aloud as one hand reached out and began gently teasing a hardening nipple. "Perhaps instead of locking you in the attic one day, I'll just leave you tied to my bed." Hermione's breath began to quicken as he lowered his head to her breast. "That just may be the only way to keep you out of trouble," he mused before his mouth captured her nipple, rolling his tongue lavishly over her swollen peak.

Soft moans escaped her lips as he continued. His hard body moved over her as he switched his attentions to the other breast, and she could feel his hardness against her thigh. "Please," she whispered. "Please, Severus."

His head lifted in response. "Please what, madam?" he teased as he rubbed his cheek against her breast, his dark hair falling across her chest as he looked at her.

"Please fuck me," she mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Severus stared into her eyes for a moment, his head resting against her heaving chest. "No," he said firmly.

"But –"

"Tut-tut, Madam Snape; are you incapable of restraining yourself?"

His rich voice awoke her desires and she bucked against the hand snaking its way up her skirt. He chuckled darkly as he captured her breast in his mouth once more. "You'll find," he murmured against her burning flesh, "that Dark wizards are exceptionally possessive." His wayward hand found her core and thrust into her. "Mine," he whispered into her ear. "Say it."

"Yours," she agreed, her chest heaving from his ministrations.

"I could bind you to me, you know," he said thoughtfully as he teased the swollen bud at the apex of her thighs. "It's a very Dark spell… I could make it so you could never respond to another's touch, could never find pleasure from any touch but mine; even your own. I could make you burn for my touch every hour of every day."

_He really could_, she realized. Panic mingled with the pleasure as he spoke. "Don't," she begged, fearful of the depth of his knowledge of the Dark Arts.

"Why not?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he drew back and undid his trousers. "You should have realized by now that I'll never allow you to touch another. The binding would just solidify that."

"I don't want that," she moaned as she watched his erection spring free.

"I think perhaps you do," Severus said darkly. "You ran for so long," he whispered into her hair as his lean body covered hers. "You fought for so long. Perhaps you enjoy this," he said, teasing her slick core. "You do enjoy this, don't you? You want to be protected. You want to be mine."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the incomprehensible words he seemed to be whispering into her very soul. Her efforts proved futile; deprivation of sight only served to heighten her awareness of the hardness of his body; of the sinewy muscles pressed against her skin. The ropes binding her arms were coarse, overwhelming her with tactile sensations.

That velvety voice spoke into her ear once more. "Yield to me. Let me protect you. Let me have you." He sunk into her slowly, with agonizing control. "You don't have to fight anymore. I will care for you. _Let me_."

Her self-control was in tatters. "Yes," she cried, her need overwhelming. "_Please_."

"Ask me," he demanded in a voice rough with desire.

"Protect me," she whispered. He began thrusting in earnest at the sound of her whimpered pleas. "Take care of me. I don't want to fight anymore. I just want to live."

"Hermione," he hissed through gritted teeth. Strong hands wound through her hair and he kissed her roughly on the mouth. "Let go," he repeated. "Let me care for you."

"Please," she moaned. "Please keep me safe. Please don't let them hurt me."

"No one will hurt you," he promised as he buried his face in her neck. "Never."

"I want to be yours," she cried as she neared her peak. "Let me be yours."

His pace became erratic as her walls clenched around him. Her words became a chant as she shuddered beneath him. _"Protect me. Care for me. Let me be yours."_

"Yes," he whispered into her ear in such a gentle voice that it was almost unrecognizable. "Always," he promised as they came together; fierce explosions that left them panting and breathless, rocking against each other.

Severus made quick work of releasing her hands as her world slowly came back into focus. It was only then, as he rubbed her raw wrists that she realized she was crying. An avalanche of emotions overwhelmed her; so vast and deep that her mind began to tangle into knots she could not possibly unravel. All she could think before sleep overtook her was how bewildered she was by the Dark wizard with the hooked nose who was kissing her tears away.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Author's Note: **Thank you for your kind reviews! I'm going to go ahead and post this chapter because it's written. The next one isn't close to done, so it may be a week or two. I genuinely am striving to post faster, so fingers crossed.

This chapter was fun to write. I think I've mentioned before that I want to explore this world, and this chapter will introduce some of our new key players and as well as some old faces. Astoria appears in this chapter; I hope you enjoy her character as much as I do. In the next chapter we'll see the State Dinner mentioned in earlier chapters (and see Voldemort again), then Severus will be going away for a few days as previously mentioned. So, we won't have nearly as much Hermione/Severus interaction in the next few chapters, but there are a few things brewing I think you'll very much enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen – Greengrass Gardens

If paradise existed in this troubling new world, Hermione was quite confident it was Greengrass Gardens.

Narcissa had drilled dozens of facts and bits of utterly useless information into Hermione's mind during their hours of intense tutelage. However, nothing prepared her for the magnificence awaiting them when she and Narcissa Apparated onto the estate with a faint pop on a warm afternoon.

As the familiar nausea of Apparition dissipated, Hermione found herself standing in a garden of unparalleled splendor. Millions of flowers stacked themselves in walls of bushes all around her, creating a symphony of reds and pinks interwoven with lush green and sparkling white. Tall trees framed the scene, creating a sumptuous feast of color. She was so in awe of the vibrancy of the blooms surrounding them that she let out a small involuntary gasp of wonder.

"Isn't it heavenly?" Narcissa whispered conspiratorially as she led Hermione toward the large white marquee sitting grandly amongst the azaleas. Several dozen witches in garden dresses and hats were scattered across the grounds, drinking tea and speaking in small clusters. Near the tent sat a large pond, on which floated colorful blooms cut from nearby azalea bushes. "The house isn't much to speak of," Narcissa continued, "but the gardens are unparalleled in size. Gemma Fawley told me once it takes a hundred house-elves, just to keep up the gardens!"

_A hundred house-elves?_ Hermione frowned slightly at the idea of house-elves, but quickly covered her look of disapproval._ Probably shouldn't mention S.P.E.W. to Madam Greengrass either_, she decided. Plastering on her best fake smile, she allowed Narcissa to lead her to a table near the edge of the tent, where several young witches were seated in gilded chairs drinking tea.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Narcissa said smoothly, interrupting their conversation and, it seemed to Hermione, asserting her dominance over the younger witches. She launched into introductions as the women quickly stood. "Madam Clémence Avery," she said, indicating a lovely blond witch who smiled warmly at Hermione. "Madam Celeste Lestrange," she continued, as an equally lovely but darker haired witch nodded. _Sisters_, Hermione realized as she noticed the similarities between the two women. "Madam Philantha Rowle," a plain woman, who did not smile, "And, of course, Miss Daisy Parkinson. Allow me to introduce Madam Hermione Snape." The last witch smiled at Hermione, but her face had a familiar pinched appearance that made her smile wholly unpleasant. _Pansy's sister_, she noted, recalling the family trees Narcissa had forced her to spend hours agonizing over. _Avery, Lestrange, Rowle... All married to Death Eaters_, Hermione observed.

"Hello, ladies," Hermione said in a manner she hoped was demure. "Lovely to meet you all."

"We wondered if you might be out now, Madam Snape," Daisy Parkinson said mischievously. "We were worried your husband might not let you out of his sight."

Hermione faltered, unsure what to say. She was pleased to see Narcissa shoot Daisy a warning look. "My husband is far too busy to worry about how I spend my day, Miss Parkinson," Hermione replied. To her immense relief, Narcissa nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure you are most anxious to welcome Madam Snape into our circle," Narcissa said to Daisy in a tone Hermione could only describe as protective, "considering how highly you think of our former Head of House."

Daisy eyed Narcissa curiously. "Yes, we are all _most_ excited to have you are join us, Madam Snape," she said deferentially. A chorus of murmured agreement followed from the others.

"I've so been longing to meet you, Madam Snape," said the younger blond witch, smiling sincerely at Hermione. _Clémence? _Hermione thought, struggling to remember the barrage of names.

"We must go greet our hostess," Narcissa interjected smoothly. "Enjoy your tea, ladies."

With easy grace, Narcissa steered them away from the table and toward a large group of witches standing near the pond watching a pair of younger girls float by on what appeared to be enchanted boats. As Narcissa and Hermione approached, a dark haired witch in a periwinkle dress stepped forward. "Narcissa," she said warmly, grasping her hands and kissing her on the cheek. "How good of you to come!"

"Oh Ellie, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Narcissa murmured with equal warmth. In stark comparison to the women under the marquee they had just met, Narcissa seemed to treat this woman as almost an equal. _Could Narcissa Malfoy possibly have… friends?_ Hermione wondered as she watched the two women exchange pleasantries that seemed genuine. "This, of course, is Madam Hermione Snape. Hermione, this is our dear hostess, Madam Ellie Greengrass."

Hermione had known Daphne Greengrass vaguely; they shared classes together, but their house rivalries were too great to ever allow more than an apathetic knowledge of each other. However, unlike Pansy, Daphne had never openly harassed or taunted Hermione, so she found herself hoping the Greengrasses did not share the Parkinsons' apparent innate dislike of her. "Thank you so much for inviting me, Madam Greengrass," she said formally. "Your gardens are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I had heard, of course, how lovely they were, but words can do no justice to the experience of their majesty." Idle conversation had never been a particularly strong area for Hermione, who had spent most of her formative years with books instead of companions. In her nervousness for entering pureblood society, she had decided to draw on every Jane Austen work she could recall reading to steer her mannerisms and conversation.

Her decision was apparently effective; she was rewarded with a genial smile and a seemingly warm invitation into Madam Greengrass' circle. A quick succession of introductions followed: Madam Greengrass' sister-in-law, Gemma Fawley and her daughters, Aubrey and Julia. The Fawleys, Hermione remembered from her lessons, were all Hufflepuffs; she vaguely remembered Julia, who had been a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts. She was also introduced to Melanie Macmillan, who was quickly revealed to be Ernie's mother. To her immense relief, none of this group seemed inclined to tease her, and they quickly settled into rather mundane conversation about the beauty of the gardens and the delightfulness of the food, which floated by on the fingertips of house-elves outfitted in pale pink tea towels.

"Madam Malfoy!" a voice called nearby. A dark haired witch, perhaps sixteen, was racing toward their circle with one hand clutching at her hat, which threatened to blow away at any moment. She arrived in front of Narcissa and Hermione quite out of breath but terribly excited. "Madam Malfoy! I'm so glad you are here! And Madam Snape!" she said quickly, bobbing a small curtsey to the pair of them. "Mother said you would come!"

"Astoria!" Ellie Greengrass hissed. "What have I told you about running?"

The girl managed to look sheepish. "Sorry, Mummy!" she said, blushing slightly.

Narcissa smiled kindly at the girl. _Will wonders never cease?_ "Hello Astoria," she said in an amused tone. "Where have you left your sister?"

"Oh, Daphne's with her schoolmates," the girl said breathlessly. "I saw you over here and couldn't wait to say hello! I'm so glad to finally meet you, Madam Snape! Draco's told me so much about you and I was so angry when Mummy didn't allow me to go to your wedding, but Draco told me all about it and how lovely it was! I so wanted to go and see the Manor all decorated for a wedding but –"

"Perhaps Madam Snape would like some tea, dear?" Ellie Greengrass interjected, breaking her daughters continuous stream of narration.

"Oh! Of course! Would you like some tea, Madam Snape?"

Hermione couldn't help but give the girl a friendly smile; there was something delightfully young and innocent about her. It was clear her parents had kept her extremely sheltered from the horrors of the recent war. "Tea would be lovely, thank you, Miss Greengrass."

As they walked toward the banquet tables laden with tea and cakes, Astoria gripped her arm and talked at full speed. "Draco has told me so much about you, Madam Snape! I knew you were a Prefect when I was at Hogwarts but I never saw you much outside of the Great Hall, and I guess Draco didn't know you well then either, but he knows Professor Snape so well and I just can't believe you're married to Professor Snape! He seemed so scary when he was our Head of House, and I was absolutely terrified of him as Headmaster! Oh, I know he's always been kind to Slytherins, but he's just so intimidating! Is he intimidating as a husband?" she asked, finally running out of air.

"He is a very good husband," Hermione said sincerely.

"Oh, I'm sure he is! Draco speaks so highly of him, they're very close, you know! Well, I suppose you _do_ know since you are married to him." She giggled anxiously. "I'm sorry, I just get so nervous around Madam Malfoy and now you too! I very much want Madam Malfoy to like me, or Mother says she won't approve of me ma-" Astoria cut herself off and blushed deeply. "I shouldn't say that," she whispered, looking at Hermione fearfully. "Father said I couldn't say anything to anyone."

Hermione patted the girl's arm reassuringly. "Your secret is safe with me, Astoria." _So Astoria Greengrass wants to marry Draco Malfoy. I can't imagine Draco putting up with a silly girl who talks this much, but their mothers seem to be close. Perhaps he doesn't have much choice..._

"Oh, there's Daphne!" Astoria said breathlessly. "You must go and say hello! I know they'll all be so excited to see you!" Before Hermione could protest, Astoria was dragging her ungracefully across the garden toward a group of witches in white lace gowns.

"Daphne!" she called as they approached. "Look who I've found!"

The girls turned simultaneously at the sound of Astoria's voice. To Hermione's horror, she was faced once again by the unpleasantly pinched face of Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherins. A look of wicked mirth turned up the corner of Pansy's lips as she took in Hermione's approaching form. "What a _delightful_ surprise, Madam Snape," the girl said in a sickly sweet voice. "We've all been positively on the edge of our seats anticipating your arrival."

"Hello, Pansy," Hermione said when she reached the group. "Daphne, Millicent, Rhonda," she said with a nod to the suddenly uncomfortable looking girls shifting awkwardly next to Pansy.

Their mumbled greetings were cut off by Pansy, who spoke once more. "What a _riveting_ life you've led since we were at school together, Hermione. Imagine our surprise when we learned that _you_ were to wed Professor Snape," she said with a look of haughty derision.

_She deserves your pity_, Hermione reminded herself as Pansy glared at her. _She's to marry a murder. _"Yes, well," she said finally, "it was quite a surprise to everyone, I'm afraid."

"And _such_ a pity to hear about your dear little friends," Pansy simpered. "What _tragic_ deaths. You must be terribly distraught?" she asked, malice rising in her voice.

"I, of course, was thrilled by the Dark Lord's victory," Hermione said smoothly. "Surely we were all relieved to see an end to the war?" _I don't care if she's marrying a murder_, Hermione decided. _She's still a horrid cow._

"I certainly was," Rhonda Runcorn said earnestly. Rhonda had never been a terribly vocal member of Pansy's gang, but the girl seemed to have grown more confident since Hermione law saw her. "I think it's wonderful we can all live peacefully now."

_You oblivious fool_, Hermione thought as she gave Rhonda a forced smile. "I couldn't agree more. There's so much more time now, for delightful things like teas. And weddings," she said with a pointed look at Pansy. "I understand congratulations are in order?"

Pansy's face turned an unflattering shade of red. "How -"

"Oh, Draco told me all about it at dinner last night," Hermione interrupted cheerfully. "He seemed terribly happy for you."

The color drained from Pansy's face at the mention of Draco's name; Hermione felt a brief pang of guilt for baiting the girl.

"_You filthy little Mu-" _

"Oh, do shut up, Pansy," Daphne Greengrass interrupted suddenly. "My mother will hex you into next year if she finds out you insulted Professor Snape's wife at our home, and she won't care _who_ you're marrying."

To Hermione's disbelief, Millicent and Rhonda giggled. Pansy's face contorted into a look of utter horror as she stared dumbly at Daphne. Finding the girl unrepentant, Pansy spun on her heel and stalked away. "Don't mind her," Millicent said as they watched her retreat. "She's been in an awful snit since her parents decided she would marry Theo's father."

"Why would she be upset about marrying Master Nott?" Astoria asked innocently. "He seems nice enough."

Rhonda and Millicent suddenly become quite interested in their teacups as Daphne made shushing gestures at her sister. Astoria, though clearly ignorant, heeded her sister's advice and a pregnant pause descended upon the small group.

"Your wedding was truly lovely, Madam Snape," Daphne said finally. She frowned. "It's odd, calling you that."

"Oh, please call me Hermione," she assured the girl. "It's strange enough without having to adjust to a new name."

Millicent Bulstrode smirked slightly. "You've done quite well for yourself, Hermione. Professor Snape's rather a catch."

Embarrassed giggles broke out amongst the group. "Yes," Hermione said finally. "I suppose he is."

* * *

It was revealed to Hermione through the course of the afternoon that, despite six years of unpleasant encounters, Pansy's gang of Slytherins was not quite as malicious without her prompting. Daphne was, to her shock, quite a gracious hostess. She was steered easily from group to group, greeting witches she vaguely remembered seeing at her wedding, all of whom bore familiar last names: Macnair, Jugson, Rookwood, Rosier, Travers, Yaxley, and so on. An endless parade of Death Eaters' wives paraded past her dressed in pastels, sipping tea as though oblivious to the horrors their husbands had perpetrated within the last few months. The mundaneness of it sickened her; their world was ruled by a madman, their husbands were all murderers, and all they could come up with to discuss was how finely the house-elves had manicured the gardens, and would you care for anymore tea?

The highlight of Hermione's afternoon, aside from Daphne telling off Pansy, was Astoria Greengrass. The girl's unyielding stream of conversation proved more comical than anticipated; Hermione nearly spit tea all over Millicent Bulstrode when the younger girl asked aging Cordelia Rosier if she knew her hat vaguely resembled a dead Acromantula. As such, Hermione was not disappointed when Astoria finally dragged her away from a rather tedious conversation with Selina Travers.

"Oh, please, Madam Snape! I've been begging Daphne all afternoon to go out on the boats with me and she won't!" the girl pouted as she led the way down to the sparkling pond. Small wooden boats floated near the shore where an elderly house-elf waited half-asleep.

As she stepped into the boat, assisted by the elderly elf, Hermione was eerily reminded of her trip across the lake as a first year at Hogwarts. "I read in _Hogwarts: A History_ that the seventh years ride back across the lake on boats when they leave Hogwarts as graduates," she said with a trace of sadness. "I am sorry I couldn't finish."

Astoria nodded sympathetically. "I won't be going back, either," she confided as they glided lazily across the pond. "Not if Draco and I are betrothed before September, at least. I've finished my O.W.L.s, and Father thinks that's enough."

"Is that what you want?" Hermione asked. "To marry Draco."

"Oh," Astoria said thoughtfully. "No one's ever asked me that. I suppose I do. I mean, I'd much rather marry Draco than someone old like Theodore Nott's father. Our mums have been friends for ages, so I guess it's always been sort of... planned. They wanted Daphne to marry him, I think, but she's to marry Randolph Mulciber now. So that left me."

Hermione considered the girl's candid words. "You're very forthcoming, Astoria."

The young girl giggled. "It's a rather unfortunate trait, especially for a Slytherin." A breeze came across the pond, stirring the colorful blooms floating delightfully on the water. "So," Astoria led, leaning in conspiratorially, "what's it like?"

"What's _what_ like?"

"You _know_," Astoria said mischievously. "_It_."

"Astoria!" Hermione admonished, shocked by the girl's forwardness once she realized her meaning. "I don't believe this is an appropriate conversation."

"Oh, please tell me!" Astoria begged. "You're the only married witch anywhere _close_ to my age, and none of Daphne's friends have ever done it. All the older witches keep it all so secretive and all Mother will say is that she'll explain it to me before my wedding."

"And I'm sure she will," Hermione assured her, recalling her own cringe-worthy conversation with Narcissa. "It would hardly be an appropriate conversation for us to discuss."

"Is it… bad?" she asked, a trace of fear creeping into her voice. "Is that why no one will tell me?"

The openness in Astoria's face stirred Hermione's sympathies. Despite only two years separating the young women gliding across the water, Hermione felt decades older. "No," Hermione said honestly. "It's not that bad. It shouldn't be," she corrected, stifling a shudder as she considered some of the less savory things she knew about Death Eaters. "But Draco is a gentleman," she said with a slight blush, "and I'm sure he'll be very… considerate."

Her answer was rewarded with a charming smile. "Yes," Astoria said dreamily. "I imagine he would be very… considerate." She raised her eyebrows at Hermione and they both dissolved into giggles.

"Are you in love with Professor Snape?" Astoria asked as she trailed one hand over the clear water.

"What a silly question," Hermione replied, feeling suddenly defensive. "Love comes from shared experiences and mutual… interests," she trailed off, unable to even convince herself.

Astoria twirled her hair and looked at Hermione thoughtfully. "I think I'm in love with Draco," she said carefully, as if waiting for Hermione's rebuke.

_That's rather obvious. _"Is Draco in love with you?" she asked gently. _Surely she knows about Draco and Pansy…_

"Oh no," Astoria said. "He's in love with Pansy."

Hermione did not argue.

"But that won't matter soon. Pansy's to marry Master Nott in just over a month, and then Draco can't love her anymore, can he?"

Part of her was tempted to tell the girl that love and marriage were separate things, and that marriage did not erase old feelings. But Astoria looked so lovely and hopeful, sitting there with her eyes shining, that Hermione could not bear to tell her any of the harsh truths she would undoubtedly learn soon enough. Instead, she said the one thing she believed to be true. "I'm certain Draco will love you soon, Astoria. He has a kind heart."

Astoria beamed at her in response. Peaceful silence descended as they floated across the tranquil water, and Hermione felt herself begin to hope that she might have found a friend in this strange new world.

* * *

"Oh, thank you, Madam Snape!" Astoria gushed as they emerged from the little boat. "I've so enjoyed getting to know you. You are just as kind as Draco said, and far nicer than Pansy implied!" she said with a spirited laugh.

"It has been a pleasure spending the afternoon with you, Astoria," Hermione said earnestly. "I hope you'll visit Prince Park soon for tea."

Astoria squealed with delight. "Would you invite Draco as well, Madam Snape?" she asked hopefully.

"Naturally," Hermione assured her as they walked along the path back toward the marquee.

As they neared the others, they passed by three witches embroiled in conversation. "I don't care how bright they say she is," a thin woman hissed with a pug nose hissed. "It's a travesty! A man of his standing marrying such a _common_ girl." She clucked in disapproval. "When there are so many _eligible_ girls, of good blood!"

Hot shame began to creep over Hermione's face as she realized _she _was the subject of their conversation. The witches were completely oblivious to the two young women passing by.

"I don't think her intelligence had anything to do with it," a square-jawed woman replied. "Have you seen the girl? She looks positively fecund."

All three laughed heartily as Hermione hurried past, ashamed at overhearing their conversation and angry at their prejudice.

Astoria caught up with her once they were out of sight of the callous group. "Are you all right, Madam Snape?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes, Astoria, my apologies," Hermione said, taking a cup of tea from a house-elf.

Astoria stared at her strangely for a moment. "Were they talking about you?" she asked finally.

Hermione's cheeks burned. "I'm afraid so."

"Oh," Astoria answered. "Well, that's rather horrid of them. They don't even know you."

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "I don't think that matters to them."

"But it should!" Astoria insisted. "You're lovely! And much kinder than half the pureblood witches I know. That pug-nosed woman is Pansy's mother, and _she's_ just jealous because she's been trying to entice Professor Snape to marry Daisy for years." She paused and looked at Hermione carefully. "I don't think it's fair for them to speak of you nastily just because your parents were Muggles," she said quietly.

Hermione stared at the girl in wide-eyed astonishment. "You'd do well not to vocalize that view to any of your friends," Hermione cautioned. "That's not a popular opinion."

"Right," Astoria said thoughtfully. "Either way, I like you, regardless of who your parents are. I should very much like us to be friends," the girl announced decidedly.

"I should like that as well," Hermione agreed.

"It's settled, then! We're friends." She took Hermione's arm once more. "And now that we're friends, I expect you to tell me all the details about _it_," Astoria whispered playfully.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Author's Notes:** Thank you, thank you, thank you for your reviews! I appreciate them all. I am trying to answer each review individually, which I've neglected to do until now. One reader commented via guest review that the bit about the amulet burning hasn't been addressed yet… good eye! Never fear: I certainly haven't forgotten about that and it will be a major plot point coming up in a few chapters. I promise next chapter will have some more forward momentum, but this chapter happened… so I figured I'd post it. Next chapter should be up in a few days! Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from these stories.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen – The Last Tears

"You did very well today," Narcissa said proudly as the heavy carved doors swung open and welcomed them into the cool air of Prince Park.

"Thank you," Hermione said, chancing a smile at the older woman. "I very much enjoyed meeting Astoria."

Narcissa laughed lightly. "She's a charming young witch, is she not? Rather loud for my taste, but Ellie has been a dear friend for years."

"She seems quite enraptured with Draco."

"That's to be expected," Narcissa said smugly. She turned around the entrance hall, taking in the heavy stone columns. "I haven't really been here in years. Not for more than a moment through the Breakfast Room Floo, at least. Severus isn't one to entertain much."

"I imagine not. Was he ever here often?"

"Not really," Narcissa sighed as she stepped down into the Glass Garden. "He always had Hogwarts. And this is much too large a house for anyone to be alone."

Hermione followed Narcissa idly as she sauntered through the Glass Garden, up the steps and through the soaring archways into the Banquet Hall. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "Ellie's tea today reminded me of how it was in the old days. Before the war, when things weren't so… dark. Lucius and I hosted a great ball every year, the night before the Summer Solstice. A masquerade. It was… exquisite." Narcissa closed her eyes and a faint smile flickered across her face. "The purebloods had quite a season, back then. From Beltane to Mabon, it was full of fabulous parties and coming-out balls." Her voice sounded far away, as if she were entranced by memories of glorious days gone by.

"That sounds… lovely," Hermione said unsurely.

Narcissa's eyes flew open. "It was. That settles it; Lucius and I will host a masquerade on Midsummer Eve."

Hermione's mouth dropped. "But that's little more than a week away!"

Grey eyes stared harshly at her. "Do you doubt my abilities?"

"No!" Hermione spluttered, "It just seems like an awful lot of work."

"True," Narcissa said thoughtfully. "You won't mind helping me, then?"

_There's the Slytherin nature_, Hermione thought as she realized she had talked herself into a corner. "Erm, no, I wouldn't mind."

Narcissa's face lit up, and Hermione saw genuine joy flutter across her face for the first time. "Splendid! I'll send the owls out today. We can work out the details during my stay here. I know Severus loathes leaving you so soon after your wedding," she said with a knowing smile.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm sure the ball will be lovely."

"Of course it will be. You know…" she said, turning slowly around the hall, "we haven't held a Governors Ball in years either. Now that Severus is on the Board of Governors, _you_ could host the ball here. Everyone was asking today when we would finally get a glimpse of the elusive Prince Park. It _would_ be for a good cause, of course."

"Oh! Well, erm, I'm not sure how keen Severus would be…" Hermione said uncertainly.

"Come now, Hermione," Narcissa said conspiratorially, "I'm sure you can find _some_ way to convince him." To Hermione's horror, Narcissa smiled cunningly. "I should go, if I have any hope of sending out the owls today. May I impose upon your Floo?"

"Of course," Hermione said, eager to steer the conversation away from Narcissa's ambitious social calendar. She led the way into the Breakfast Room, where the fire crackled merrily. "Thank you for accompanying me today. I had a lovely time."

"Your dear husband is absolutely insistent that you not be left unattended." Narcissa took a handful of Floo Powder from the delicate bowl on the mantle. "Oh! That reminds me; Clémence Avery wishes to have us both for tea at the Abbey on Tuesday. I assured her you would be thrilled."

"Right, that'll be… enjoyable."

Narcissa surveyed Hermione closely and gave her a kind smile. "You're adjusting quite well, you know. I'm impressed," she said as she threw the powder into the fire and the flames turned bright green. "And I'm not easily impressed. I'll see you at dinner tomorrow. Say hello to Severus for me. Malfoy Manor!" With that, she stepped into the flames and was gone.

Hermione dropped down into one of the plush chairs surrounding the table, utterly exhausted. _Who knew idle chatter was so arduous?_

"My, my, you look entirely fatigued. Drink too much tea?"

The deep voice sounded from the door, making her jump in surprise. Hermione scowled as she took in the dark form of the wizard standing imposingly in the doorway. "If I didn't know better, I'd accuse you of being a unregistered Animagus, stealthy as you are."

"And what form would I take?" he asked, crossing his arms and giving her a sullen look.

"At Hogwarts the Galleon was on bat."

Severus scoffed. "Hopelessly unoriginal. I'm pleased to see you survived the nest of vipers. Tell me, what enlightening chatter did you learn over your lemon biscuits?"

"Well, let's see," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Narcissa Malfoy _actually_ has friends," she said, counting off each item on her fingers, "Astoria Greengrass is in love with Draco, but so is Pansy, so that's rather prickly. Daisy Parkinson is just as nasty as her sister, and apparently Madam Parkinson has been trying to pawn Daisy off onto you for years. Pansy's still a cow, but Daphne seems to have grown up some. I overheard Madam Parkinson say some horrid things about me, but Astoria was quite nice. I suppose we're friends now." She looked up at him. "I believe that about covers it."

Two dark eyebrows raised in response. "How fascinating," Severus drawled. "Astoria is a good match for Draco. Romantic love is far too fickle to be a deciding factor in marriages of alliance." He looked at her questioningly, as if inviting her to disagree. Finding her silent, he continued. "It is true that Ivy Parkinson has unsuccessfully attempted to fling her eldest daughter in my path at every possible occasion. The girl is nearly as unpleasant as she is dull."

"Yes, she didn't inspire much jealousy," Hermione noted.

"I should hope not. The girl is insipid. I shudder to think how quickly my mind would atrophy if I had to suffer her presence day and night."

_He must find me somewhat stimulating_, she noted, filing away the not quite compliment for later. "Narcissa has decided to host a masquerade Midsummer Eve, _and_ she not-so-subtly suggested I use my feminine wiles to convince you to host a ball here."

"Absolutely _not_," Severus growled. "I would rather eat my weight in doxy eggs than allow that wicked company of despondent witches to encroach upon my solitude."

Hermione snorted. "You won't find any objection from me," she assured him. "They weren't all bad, though," she added after a moment. "Daphne Greengrass stopped Pansy from insulting me, and her family all seemed pleasant enough."

"The Greengrasses have always been more…moderate, as it were. Geoffrey never took the Mark, though I'm not sure how he managed to avoid it. I had thought that might preclude Astoria from being among the potential matches Lucius and Narcissa would consider for Draco, but Narcissa and Ellie were thick as thieves at school."

"She's extremely forthcoming. As soon as she got me alone she started inquiring about the more… _intimate_ details of married life." Severus looked exceptionally put off by that knowledge, so Hermione continued. "Clémence Avery asked Narcissa and I to tea on Tuesday. She seems nice enough."

Severus nodded approvingly. "Clémence is one of the rare witches that I can tolerate without being tempted to force feed a Wit Sharpening potion. I never cared much for Ravenclaws, but she is exceptionally bright. Her husband and I were in the same year in Slytherin."

"Really? She's rather young."

"Nine years," Severus shrugged. "Hardly anything compared to the gap in our ages," he said with a trace of bitterness.

Hermione barely suppressed an eye roll. "If Pansy's to wed Marius Nott and Daphne's to wed Randolph Mulciber, I hardly think anyone will give much thought to the differences in our ages. Do all Death Eaters marry younger women?"

"Not all," Severus replied coolly. "Just those of us with more lascivious inclinations." His eyes flashed darkly.

Warning bells began clanging in her mind as Hermione realized she was treading on dangerous ground. "So, erm, you said you were in the same year as Clémence's husband?"

"Yes."

_Moody bastard_, Hermione thought petulantly. She waited a long moment, hoping to coax more of a responsive from him.

"We were friends, as much as Slytherins could be. Rolf and I took the Mark together," he offered eventually.

Hermione's eyes unconsciously drifted to his left arm. "Oh. That's… nice, I guess."

"Not in the end, actually."

His curt responses irritated her endlessly. Without warning, her frustration boiled over and she spoke, as she so often had, without thinking. "I'll have you know that I am making every effort to be civil with you," she snapped as she furrowed her brow. "You seem to oscillate wildly between wanting to teach me, wanting to lock me away, wanting to bed me, and wanting to ignore me completely. At this point I would be agreeable to any of those options, so kindly choose one and allow me to get on with it."

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously across the room. "I need not remind you that I have been more than civil since you came here, madam. I am not a patient man, and I have never given you any indication to think that I was. Perhaps if you talked less I might find you a good deal more agreeable."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find a response that would make her feel slightly more in control of the situation. Finding none, she stared at him dumbly. "You're rather cruel," she said finally. She knew it sounded childish, but it was all her mind could think of to say to this broody man.

Genuine confusion stared back at her from his solemn face. "Perhaps, but I've been cruel to you for nearly seven years now. I cannot fathom why this has just now come to your attention."

"Everything is just so confusing with you!" she exclaimed in frustration. "One moment you're lecturing me about how immature and ignorant I am and the next moment you're taking me to bed. I hardly know anything about you, and every time I get close to learning something you become incredibly defensive and outright cruel. I'm not entirely sure how to live with you."

Severus rubbed his hands over his face in a gesture she had come to recognize as exasperation. "I have spent the better part of the last three years Occluding almost constantly. I have been witness to and perpetrator of horrific crimes, which will very likely only increase in scope as I continue to serve the Dark Lord. As I've told you many times, I won't apologize for the choices I've made or will continue to make. You and I are both alive because of those choices. You cannot and will not be privy to the majority of my thoughts and motivations for reasons that we have already discussed _at length_. I will offer you all that I can, but it should have been clear by now that I am not offering you my heart or my soul. I'm offering you a place by my side, in this world and this home. That's the most I can give you. This conversation has become mind-numbingly repetitive and I will _not_ have it with you again."

"Right," Hermione said softly.

"All that you need to know to live with me, Hermione, is to stay out of danger and out of my way as much as possible. I am not unhappy with our arrangement thus far. I had rather thought you were becoming accustomed to it as well."

"It's hard," she admitted weakly.

"As it will always be. This is a dangerous world. You are no longer a child. I expect you to act like the woman you are. I have made you my wife; do _not_ disappoint me." He swept out of the room, robes swirling around him dramatically.

"_Arse,"_ Hermione grumbled after she was certain he was out of earshot.

* * *

Hermione found him in his laboratory. Four potions bubbled noisily around him, all of which he watched with calculated perfection as he sliced and chopped ingredients methodically.

"It's mesmerizing, watching you brew," she offered in what she hoped was a reconciliatory tone.

Severus inclined his head in recognition, but did not look up.

"May I come in?" she asked from the doorway, slightly embarrassed to stand gawking at him.

"If you must."

"What are you brewing?"

This question merited her a raised eyebrow and a look of exasperation. "Potions you should be more than capable of identifying," he said coolly.

Hermione approached the first cauldron. "Veritaserum," she announced the moment she saw the colourless liquid. Severus nodded in agreement. The next cauldron held a shimmering ruby red liquid. "Blood-Replenishing Potion." He nodded once more. "Calming Draught," she declared with a glance at the third cauldron.

The last cauldron, which Severus was meticulously stirring counter-clockwise, housed an iridescent gold liquid. "Hmm," Hermione said thoughtfully as she watched him add one counter-clockwise stir every twentieth time. "I'm not sure what this is."

"Understandable," he said with uncharacteristic patience. "It's a potion of my own design."

"What's it for?"

"Perhaps you can determine the use for yourself. I began with seven fairy wings, which I ground into a paste and mixed with three drops of Acromantula venom. I added a pint of morning dew and heated the mixture over low heat. Next went in nine fresh rose petals. Dare to venture a guess?"

"Well," Hermione said thoughtfully, "Fairy wings, morning dew, and rose petals are all found in Beautification Potions. But the potion would be pink now, not golden. The Acromantula venom is exceedingly rare but has incredibly powerful restorative properties." She looked at the workbench where he had carefully laid the remaining ingredients. "Considering the other ingredients you've assembled," Hermione said as she looked curiously at the ginger root, unicorn hair, and dragon heartstring, "I would predict some type of youth restorative. Perhaps designed to return the drinker to a state of youthful beauty?"

The corners of Severus' mouth curled almost imperceptibly. "So you are capable of critical thinking."

"Who is this for?" she asked, ignoring his veiled insult.

"The Dark Lord."

"_What?"_ Hermione asked shrilly.

"As you well know, the Dark Lord will soon install himself as Lord Chancellor and appear before the general public. It has been determined that the transition might be eased by a more… conventional form."

Hermione snorted. "I don't envy the Death Eater who suggested that."

"You underestimate the Dark Lord's vanity," Severus muttered.

"So this will make him look younger?"

"Ideally," Severus said as he removed the stirring rod and added the chopped ginger root. "It should restore some semblance of… humanity to his appearance."

Hermione watched in fascination as Severus quartered the dragon heartstring with precise movements. "So you created this?" she asked curiously.

"I've created several samples, each unsuccessful thus far. Potion creation is a laborious undertaking."

"How will you know if one is successful?"

"I would consider any version that makes the Dark Lord look less _skeletal_ to be a great success."

Hermione considered his words. "Harry told me once that the Dark Lord was a surprisingly dashing young man. Of course, Harry didn't use the word 'dashing' at all, that'd be very unlike him. He did say the Dark Lord looked normal when he was younger, which for Harry to say of him was really a compliment." A pointed look from Severus made her blush. _Oh. Rambling again. _

"Was there something you required?"

"Oh," Hermione said, shifting uncomfortably. "No, not particularly. I just… well, I wanted to apologize to you. _Again_. I've been thinking about what you said… about me growing up. I suppose you're right. I will strive to do that."

"Duly noted. If that is all?"

"Might I stay?" she asked hopefully. "I could help."

Hermione was certain he would say no. Severus looked at her harshly for several long moments, as if attempting to determine her sincerity. "There are several jars of flobberworms in the storeroom that need to be sorted. Throw out the rotten ones."

Hermione's stiffened her groan of disgust. The thought of digging through mounds of slimy worms turned her stomach, but she said nothing as she went in search of the ingredient.

"Gloves are in the cabinet," Severus said as she returned with the jars.

Hermione collected a pair of dragon-hide gloves and dutifully set to work, separating the rotten flobberworms from the good. They worked in silence for a half hour until she Vanished the pile of rotten worms and returned the jar of fresh worms back to the storeroom.

"There's a barrel of horned toads that need disemboweling," Severus commented when she returned.

Hermione looked at him critically. "Are you cross with me?" she asked as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Why in Merlin's name should I be cross with you?" he asked, looking up from the simmering potion. "Have you done something I should be made aware of?"

"Of course not!" she said indignantly. "But you've had me sort flobberworms and now you want me to disembowel horned toads. It feels quite like detention."

"You asked to help," Severus reminded her. "This is what needs to be done. I assure you, your help is unnecessary; you are entirely welcome to retire upstairs and find some other means of amusing yourself. I shan't begrudge you your solitude."

"I _want_ to be here! Do you know how much I've missed brewing? I want to help you, and instead you delegate me to mindless tasks!"

Severus kept his eyes on the potion as he spoke. "Have you considered that perhaps I can't stand to see you like this?" His voice was quiet. "I couldn't bear to see you stand over a cauldron with that look of wild determination I watched for so many years. If I'm forced to watch your hair frizz up around your face as you brew I might lose my mind."

"W-what do you mean?" she asked shakily.

"Gryffindors are always so quick to martyr themselves that they cannot see the sacrifices of others. Has it occurred to you that perhaps I _also_ struggle with adjusting to this arrangement? I watched you – I _taught_ you – for six years. Watching you run about playing house in my home and in my bed is more unsettling than you'll ever know."

Hermione's mouth hung agape. "No," she sputtered, "I hadn't considered any of those things."

"You cry rather often," Severus added, still not meeting her eyes. "It is a most unfortunate reminder of our disparate ages."

"Right." Hermione nodded gravely. "I will do my best to rectify that. I'm terribly sorry." Fearing she would dissolve into tears once more, Hermione fled.

* * *

_He thinks I'm a child. He still sees me as that girl. Maybe I still am that girl. _These thoughts ricocheted through Hermione's mind as she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. To calm herself, she ran through a mental inventory of all the things she knew about her husband. _He's a Death Eater, but one with a conscious at least. He's obviously still involved with the Order somehow, or Lupin wouldn't have come here. I know he married me to protect me, which he didn't have to do. Even Draco thinks he's a good man…but does that count for much? He only killed Dumbledore to spare Draco. But he killed Ron. Was that a kindness as Draco said? He's instrumental in Voldemort's new regime, but he seems less than enthusiastic about that. _The evidence, she decided, was inconclusive. _Still, I have to believe in my heart that he's a good man. He _has_ treated me far better than any other Death Eater would. _

Their interactions were the most puzzling. _How can one person be so alternately kind and cruel? Surely such an attitude would be dizzying. One minute he says horrid things and the next he's being… well, rather considerate. Have I totally disregarded his feelings? Have I been too immature? I have cried more times than I'm proud of since I came here. It's not really fair to him. He has done quite a lot to make me feel comfortable here. _

Hermione stood in her bedroom, surveying the trappings of a life that didn't really belong to her. _This _is_ my life, though_. The thought reverberated through her mind. _This is my life_. "This is my life now," she whispered to the empty room. _I have to leave that girl behind. I have to be this woman. This woman doesn't cry or attack people with birds. This woman is patient and thoughtful. I can be this woman. This woman isn't shrill or bossy. She is confident and proud. This woman is Madam of Prince Park. _"I am Madam of Prince Park," she told the empty room. "_I _am."

Hermione was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake, and Gryffindors did not shy away from a challenge. _I will be this woman. _Her mind made up, she called Bitzy to start her bath and dress her for dinner. As she sat in the tub, the warm water swirling around her as colorful soaps created rich bubbles, Hermione hugged her knees and cried. She cried great wracking sobs for her parents, her friends, her classmates, herself. The tears streamed down her face unrestrained as she released all the anger and bitterness she had held since Dumbledore's death, or perhaps longer. _This is my life now_, her mind whispered again and again. _This is my life now and I _will_ make the best of it._ By the time she emerged from her bath her eyes were red and her nose puffy, but her spirit was strong. _I may cry out of fear or pain, or even happiness some day,_ she promised herself,_ but never again will I cry out of pity for myself. _


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Author's Notes: **Again, my apologies on lateness... I will strive to post faster. I adore reading your reviews, as always. Thanks for reading!

Full disclosure - Voldemort's dinner speech is an amalgam of Hitler speeches that I twisted to fit this world. I tried writing something original, but apparently I'm not megalomaniacal enough to write anything of Hitler/Voldemort's caliber.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from these stories.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen – State of Affairs**

"Could you make my eyes less red, Bitzy?" Hermione asked as she sat down at her vanity. Those final tears had been extraordinarily cathartic; she had emerged from the tub feeling lighter and determinedly resolved to make the best of things.

"Of course, Madam!" the elf cried delightedly, clapping her tiny hands together with excitement at being _asked_ for anything.

"I want to wear my hair up tonight. Could you do that? I want to look… older. Different. Like a wife."

"Bitzy will make Madam look so beautiful! Trust Bitzy!"

Hermione nodded and the elf began her work. _This is my life now_. The words were a mantra ringing through her mind. Sighing heavily, she resigned herself to the responsibilities she now carried. "Mitzi?" she asked the air uncertainly. The house-elf popped into view almost instantly.

"How may Mitzi be of service, Madam?" the elf said with a bobbed curtsey.

"I'll be down after breakfast tomorrow to go over the accounts and the menus for this week. Tell the kitchen elves to stop serving pastries at breakfast; Master Snape only ever has dry toast and coffee and I just have porridge and tea."

"Of course, Madam!"

Hermione gave the eager elf a grateful smile. "Madam Malfoy will arrive Saturday. Which bedroom do guests typically stay in?"

"The Lufkin Room!" Mitzi squeaked. "It is the best guest room!"

"Wonderful," Hermione said as she felt a pang of guilt at betraying her youthful promise never to order around house-elves. "Prepare that one for Madam Malfoy's arrival, please."

"Right away, Madam!" Mitzi popped away, leaving Bitzy staring at her wide-eyed in the mirror.

"Madam is becoming a true lady!" Bitzy said with shining eyes. "Bitzy is so proud!" She dabbed at her eyes pitifully with her pillowcase. "Norris will be so pleased!" Bitzy's sniveling continued as she braided Hermione's hair into two long plaits then twirled each plait and pinned them against the back of her head in a labyrinth of twists and pins. The overall effect, Hermione grudgingly decided, was not too severe, but much more mature than her usual curls. _Maybe this will help Severus see me as less of a child._

When her hair was finished and her eyes no longer bore the characteristic redness of tears, Hermione stepped into her closet and looked around at the multitude of iridescent fabrics and expensively cut cloth. She settled upon a ridiculously Narcissa-esque gown in a shimmering green with a high neck, low back, and long sleeves. From the chest Severus had given her she withdrew the largest set of emeralds she could find. She dressed quickly as Bitzy called to her from the bedroom, warning her of the lateness of the hour. Hermione stepped hurriedly into the heels she had loathed Narcissa for forcing upon her and stepped back into her chamber.

"Oh! Madam!" the elf cried as she dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her pillowcase. "You are the loveliest Madam! Bitzy thinks Master Snape will not mind waiting for Madam! Not mind at all!"

Hermione gave her a grateful smile as she headed for the stairs.

* * *

"You're late," Severus said as she hurried into the Banquet Hall.

"My apologies," Hermione murmured.

"That is an exceptionally lovely dress," he commented as his eyes raked over her body.

"Thank you," she replied demurely with a gentle incline of her head.

"I've been thinking since we spoke this afternoon," he began, and Hermione's stomach turned nervously. "Perhaps it would be opportune for us to host the Governors Ball this year."

"Oh?"

"Though it will undoubtedly be an exercise in futility and a never ending headache for us both, the ball would serve _some_ functional purposes."

"Such as?"

"The Governors Ball is the primary fundraising means for Hogwarts. A growing number of students are unable to afford the supplies necessary for attendance; that number will likely be compounded by the recent war. The Galleons raised at the ball typically cover those expenses. It has been several years since such a ball was held and the coffers are running exceptionally low. Much as I loathe the majority of the dunderheads, I do feel obligated to ensure their continued education. No one should be denied the opportunity to attend Hogwarts because of financial strain."

Hermione gave him a kind smile. "That's very thoughtful of you. Are you sure you wouldn't mind? Hosting such an occasion here?"

"Oh, I would mind very much, I assure you. But it is unlikely any of the other Governors will take the time to organize such an event and I find it bad stewardship to leave Horace to carry the financial burden of an underfunded Hogwarts."

"So Professor Slughorn will become Headmaster, then?"

"Yes," he said with a heavy sigh. "The Dark Lord has decided he is the least objectionable candidate. I must make a trip before the end of June to fill some vacancies among the staff and collect my things. You may accompany me, should you wish."

"I would like that very much," Hermione replied sincerely. "I'll speak with Narcissa about the ball; she offered her help today when we spoke of it. She seemed quite enthusiastic about the prospect of having a proper pureblood 'season,' as she called it."

Severus snorted into his wine. "Yes, I'm sure she'll keep you nauseatingly busy attending and hosting all manner of foolish gatherings."

"I'd prefer being bored to tears than have to face the Dark Lord every day," she said quietly.

"A wise preference," Severus acknowledged. "Though I fear your reprieve is over. The Dark Lord is… eager to speak with you."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I'm not afraid," she assured him.

"Keep your shields in place and he will have no reason to fault you."

They sat in silence for several minutes before Hermione spoke. "Will you tell me about taking the Dark Mark?" she asked carefully.

"Taken an interest in the Dark Arts?" Severus asked snidely. "I think you'll find that, with a few notable exceptions, the Dark Lord generally frowns upon wives taking the Mark."

"No," she said quickly. "It's just – I've read about the First Wizarding War in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, of course, but I've never learned about the Dark side of the war, as it were. Intellectual curiosity, I suppose."

Severus took a deep drink of wine. "Given the amount of intellectual curiosity you seem to posses, I find it very surprising you were not in Ravenclaw."

"The Sorting Hat considered it," she said seriously.

The corners of his mouth quirked momentarily before a somber look replaced it. "To compensate for your youth, I am compelled to start at the beginning." Severus said silkily. His voice seemed… _wistful _somehow, in a way that made Hermione inexplicably nervous. "The Dark Lord did not rise to power on fear and intimidation initially; no, that came later. When he was first collecting followers, he did so through charisma and charm. He had an uncanny ability to persuade powerful wizards to align themselves with him. It was all a lie, of course; he never looked at any of his followers as his equal. But nonetheless, he amassed a large following. The Knights of Walpurgis, as they were called, were a collection of powerful witches and wizards that shared a desire to reform the Ministry of Magic and strengthen the population of Wizarding Britain. It wasn't until the First Wizarding War that the depths of the Dark Lord's power truly became apparent. Desire for reformation gave way to desire for revolution; that coincided with the renaming of the Knights of Walpurgis as Death Eaters, branded with the Dark Mark. The killings, the tortures, and the Imperius curses began in earnest then. They began to use fear and intimidation to blackmail ministry workers, wizards, and even a few Muggle-borns the Dark Lord wished to collect as followers."

"Were you coerced into joining?" she asked, suddenly hopeful that Voldemort had threatened his family – his uncle perhaps – in order to convince Severus to join him.

"No," Severus said firmly. "I was young and eager to serve him."

Hermione picked up her wine glass, her hand trembling slightly. _He speaks so reverently of the Dark Lord sometimes_, she thought as she took a sip of her wine. _Sometimes I can see how enraptured he must have been with the Dark Arts_.

"Lucius Malfoy was a Prefect when I entered Slytherin; he was kind to me. We kept in touch after he left Hogwarts. Almost everyone in my year had friends or family that were Death Eaters, or supporters of the Dark Lord at the very least. Most Slytherins then were sympathetic to his cause. We were all naive and anxious for power and glory. The Dark Lord offered it to us. During the Christmas holidays of my seventh year, we were invited to take the Mark. We each had a sponsor; Lucius stood with me. It is a secret ceremony, but it is very ritualistic and culminates, of course, with the branding of the Dark Mark." Severus pulled up his sleeve and thrust his forearm toward her, as if daring her to look at the Mark.

Hermione averted her eyes. "So it was you and Avery that took the Mark together?"

"Six of us: Rolf Avery, Evan Rosier, Regulus Black, Arsenius Wilkes, Randolph Mulciber, and I," he said as he pulled his sleeve back down.

"_Regulus Black?_" Hermione asked. "Sirius's brother?"

Severus nodded. "He was a year below me in Slytherin, but Bellatrix had indoctrinated him well. He was killed two years later by Aurors; Wilkes and Rosier the year after that."

"Regulus defected," Hermione whispered. "He tried to stop the Dark Lord."

"_What_?" Severus hissed.

Hermione nodded apprehensively. "We found a letter at Grimmauld Place," she lied, fearful of telling him of Voldemort's Horcruxes and the role Regulus Black had played in the stealing of the locket. "He said he met his death in the hopes the Dark Lord would fall."

Severus' sallow face was ashen. "The Dark Lord said – he said that Aurors - I didn't know," he muttered.

"No one did," Hermione said gently. "Not even Dumbledore." The nostalgic fondness that had shone in his dark eyes as he talked of taking the Mark with his classmates was gone, replaced by a grim look of fear. "H-he was very brave," she continued.

"He must have been," Severus said regretfully. "Thank you. For telling me."

With shaking hand, Hermione raised her wine. "To Regulus."

"Regulus," Severus said, raising his glass.

Six years ago, or a year ago, or even a day ago, Hermione would have pressed him for knowledge of Regulus, or the initiation process, or the magic involved with branding the Dark Mark. But she remembered her promise, to herself and Severus, to be more sensitive to her surroundings; so instead, she watched the fire crackling merrily in the grand fireplace and waited for him to speak.

Her patience was eventually rewarded. "What you must understand, Hermione," he said without meeting her eyes, "Is that no villain sees himself as such. I did not join the Dark Lord thinking only of propagating evil. I sought _power_; all of us sought power. The Dark Lord's ideals may conflict strongly with your own, but the world is not entirely black and white. His goal has never been simply to sit on a throne, surrounded by legions of followers. The perception of his followers has always been that if the Dark Lord were victorious, our world would be better."

"Better for whom?"

Severus thought for a moment. "Not better for you, unfortunately. You had the great misfortune of choosing the wrong hero. For that's really all wars are, you see: two heroes fighting one another. It's simply your perception that creates a villain. The Dark Lord is a hero to many of his followers, just has Harry Potter was a villain to many Death Eaters."

"But everyone feared the Dark Lord."

Severus scoffed. "You, of all people, should understand just how easily public opinion might be swayed. A few Rita Skeeter articles on the heroics of the Dark Lord and the people will emerge from their houses, ready to embrace their new leader."

Hermione frowned. "Do you really think people can be swayed so easily?"

"Am I mistaken in recalling several letters addressed to you causing quite a stir during your fourth year? Cursed letters, sent after a rather scathing Rita Skeeter article accused you of toying with the emotions of Messrs. Potter and Krum? And quite a few Howlers as well, if memory serves."

Her face went scarlet at the memory; she had not forgotten the humiliation she had endured at _his_ hands when he had read that article aloud to their Potions class. "That was different –"

"If the masses will believe a fourteen year-old girl has seduced and cuckolded not one but _two_ famous wizards, they will believe anything." Before she could respond, he pushed away from the table and rose abruptly. "I will take my leave of you, madam. Goodnight."

He swept from the room before she could argue.

* * *

Hermione woke with a start. It had been a night of fitful sleep after Severus had stormed away from dinner. She sat up in her opulent bed and looked around. Bluish light filtered in through the wide windows facing the wooded park that sloped away from the house. The world looked so peaceful from the safety of her room. Could this really be the day she would face Voldemort again? She climbed from the bed with a sigh and began to dress. _There's no help for it,_ she thought resignedly. _If Severus trusts my Occlumency skills, there is a measurable hope that I may be able to withstand the Dark Lord riffling through my mind._ _Though perhaps there is one thing I could arrange… just in case…._ Hermione set off towards the kitchens with a determined resolve.

An hour later, she sat reading the _Daily Prophet_ in the Breakfast Room as she sipped her tea. "You're awake very early this morning," Severus noted as he strode into the room. "Are you unwell?"

"Not at all," she assured him as she passed him the paper. "You should be wary of Rita Skeeter. She's an unregistered Animagus. That's how she gets most of her information."

She looked up to find Severus staring at her incredulously. "Unregistered Animagus?"

Hermione nodded. "I caught her my fourth year. She was flying around Hogwarts as a beetle all year, gathering information. I, well, I sort of blackmailed her after that."

"I always assumed her stories were utter rubbish," Severus said as he scanned Skeeter's latest article.

"Most of it is. But there's always a grain of truth, which is what makes it all so convincing, I think. I thought of it after you mentioned her last night. You ought to know. It could be – "

"Very useful," he finished. "Thank you." Severus set the paper down and took a piece of toast from the tray. "Should I summon Mitzi? The elves have forgotten the pastries."

Hermione shook her head. "I told Mitzi not to serve them. We never eat them, anyway."

"Been down to the kitchens this morning, have you?" he asked snidely as he poured a cup coffee. "I assume they're all well into the Butterbeer by now if you've gone off on them about elfish welfare."

"They seemed rather receptive, actually," Hermione said proudly as she spooned blueberries onto her porridge. "I've convinced them all to take a salary."

The sound of a teacup clattering onto the table startled her; she looked up to find Severus gaping at her. "You did _what_?"

"Convinced them to take a salary," she repeated. "A Galleon a month each. I tried to pay them _much_ more, but that's the most they would agree to."

One dark eyebrow raised in curiosity. "And how did you achieve this?"

Hermione grimaced. "It was rather simple, really. I threatened them all with clothes. They were quite eager to take a Galleon a month instead of a sock."

To her great surprise, Severus laughed. "Yes, I suppose they were."

"I've looked over all the ledgers," she continued hesitantly. "Eliminating the pastries alone will nearly cover their salaries for the month, and I've made a few other changes as well."

Severus nodded. "That is your right."

Deciding she would chance one more revelation, she went on. "And I – well, I thought about it, and _if_ something were to happen to the both of us, I wouldn't want the Dark Lord or anyone else coming in and treating them poorly, so… I told them all that in the event of our deaths, they have very strict instructions to go to my bedroom and take a sock each. So they'll be free."

"Prudent planning," said Severus as he turned his attention to the pile of letters near his plate. "Though I expect they'll all be cowering in fear of you now."

"It's for their own good!" said Hermione indignantly. "I've seen how other wizards treat their elves. Even Sirius abused poor Kreacher."

"Sirius Black abused many," he said shortly. "But I would urge you not to mention your promotion of elfish rights to anyone else. I assure you, no other witches you associate with have ever given a moment's thought to the well being of their elves."

After they finished their breakfast in silence, Severus set aside his letters. "I have business to attend to at the Ministry this morning. I trust you can keep yourself out of trouble while I'm away? I do not wish to return to find you've burnt down the house to further doxy liberation or some such nonsense."

"I'll strive to keep the torching to a minimum," said Hermione with a wry smile as they walked out into the corridor.

"See that you do. I shall return in time to collect you for dinner." Severus swept away.

Hermione turned towards the library, recalling a book she had come across once in the library at Grimmauld Place and wondering if this library might hold the same texts on Wizarding genealogy.

* * *

"You are… dazzling," Severus said, his eyes swept over her gown. Dazzling was right; the golden scales caught the lamplight and cast shimmers through out her bedroom. The rubies dangling from her ears and neck enhanced the radiant effect.

"I thought you might like it," she said, gently fingering one golden scale. "It seemed rather appropriate."

"Dragon scales," he said with an appreciative nod. "Perhaps the exorbitant cost was justified."

"I think so. You look rather dashing as well." He still wore his characteristic black, but these robes were much lighter and the fabric looked more luxurious.

Severus raised one eyebrow in response but did not argue. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "I have a gift for you," he said stiffly. From his pocket, he withdrew an elaborately carved silver bracelet. It was a coiled serpent, meticulously detailed, that was made to wrap around the wrist as though a small snake had curled itself around one's arm. Two emeralds glittered as its' eyes and it's mouth was open, fangs bared and prepared to strike.

"Oh! It's lovely," said Hermione as she stepped closer to examine it.

Severus moved to clasp it around her left wrist. "It was my mother's: a gift from her parents when she came of age. The only piece of jewelry she kept Tobias from pawning. It's a witch's wand holder."

Hermione frowned. "A what?"

"May I?" He nodded toward her wand. Hermione handed it to him wordlessly and watched in astonishment as he slid the length of her vine wood wand into the serpent's mouth, disappearing completely from view.

"Fascinating!" She moved her wrist around, but found no trace of the wand. "Undetectable Extension Charm?"

Severus nodded. "It is spelled so no one will be able to remove the wand except for you, even if you are Disarmed. I hope you will find it useful."

There was a hint of something in his voice that she recognized as a need for approval. "Thank you, Severus. It means so much to me, to have something of your mother's."

He gave her a stiff smile, then bowed low and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Norris waited in the Entrance Hall with their cloaks. "When we arrive," Severus explained as he helped her into her cloak, "you will be closely watched. The Dark Lord will have eyes on you long before you see him. I suspect you will be seated near him, unfortunately. It will be a trying evening for you. You must keep your mind Occluded constantly. The Dark Lord is not one for subtlety, so you may be able to feel his presence in your mind. You must not speak of Potter or the Order. You are the honored to be in his presence and by my side. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I won't disappoint you."

Severus held her by the shoulders and looked at her critically. "You will do well. I will stay close to you."

"Thank you," she whispered as she leaned in and kissed his lips tenderly.

Severus froze. "Come," he commanded after a moment's stunned silence. He led her out the front doors into the warm evening air; with a turn of his heel they Disapparated.

When Hermione had been brought here as a captive, Malfoy Manor had seemed impossibly cold and imposing. The one she approached now, however, seemed to radiate light and warmth. Every window was illuminated with light and floating candles brightened the hedged path leading toward the grand front doors. Lilting laughter and soft music drifted through the windows and the heady scent of roses filled the air. _Narcissa is the consummate hostess,_ Hermione mused as they stepped through the front doors and were greeted with a low bow from an aging house-elf who took their cloaks.

The entrance hall was crowded; witches and wizards in fine dress robes milled about, speaking and laughing so casually that Hermione forgot for a moment that she was at a gathering of Voldemort's inner circle. A fire burning cheerfully in the great hearth cast a warm glow on the walls. Draco Malfoy, looking terribly dashing in his black dress robes, smiled as they approached him.

"Uncle Severus," said Draco with a low bow. "Madam Snape," he murmured as he kissed her hand. "How good of you to come. You are welcome, as always."

"Thank you, Draco," she said with a soft smile. "The Manor looks so lovely. Your mother has done an exceptional job.

"You are very kind, Madam Snape. I believe you have met Astoria?" He gestured to the empty space next to him.

Hermione giggled inadvertently. "I believe your charge has escaped, Draco."

"That foolish girl," he hissed under his breath. "Running around all evening like a bloody house-elf!"

"I believe Miss Greengrass is conversing with her aunt," Severus said coolly, gesturing to a corner where Astoria was having an animated conversation with a dark-haired witch.

"Excuse me," Draco said with a bow as he stormed away to collect his wayward date.

"Her aunt?" Hermione queried.

Severus gave her a knowing look. "Ellie Greengrass was a Rowle before she married. Her sister Circe married Boris Yaxley."

"Oh?" Hermione said casually. _Astoria probably won't be so friendly towards me if she realizes I cursed her uncle once._

"And I believe you met Ellie's brother Thorfinn once?" Severus said with a raised eyebrow and slight quirk of his lips.

"Lovely." _Right then, I've cursed two of Astoria's uncles_, she realized with a sinking feeling. _And I've punched the boy she's in love with. Not the most auspicious beginning to a friendship…_

"Severus!" crooned a feminine voice behind them. Hermione turned to find a stocky little witch dressed in garish green dress robes approaching them; she was so tightly laced into her corseted dress that it looked as if her bosom might rise up and strangle her at any moment.

"Alecto," Severus said evenly. "I trust you are well."

"I was _so_ disappointed to learn you wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts, Severus," the redheaded witch said in a sultry voice. "Utterly _devastated_."

Severus ignored her pointed glance. "Miss Carrow, I fear you haven't been properly introduced to my wife, Hermione."

In her years in the Wizarding World, Hermione had been on the receiving end of several murderous looks. She could not, however, recall one quite as venomous as the look of contempt Alecto Carrow gave her as she curled her nose and bit out, "Lovely to meet you, Madam Snape."

"Alecto and her brother teach at Hogwarts now," Severus explained. "Alecto teaches Muggle Studies."

Alecto's face twisted into an evil smile. "Yes, filthy creatures, Muggles. But then, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Madam Snape?"

"Will you be returning to Hogwarts, Miss Carrow?" Hermione asked with forced politeness, ignoring her insult.

"We both will be," a lumpy man said as he stepped next to Alecto. "Dunno what we'll do without you at Hogwarts, Severus."

"I'm sure you'll manage, Amycus. Now, if you'll excuse us," Severus said, gripping Hermione's arm tightly and turning away. They left the Carrows standing there, Alecto looking obstinate and Amycus looking oblivious.

"Ah, Severus!" Marius Nott said as they approached. "We've all wondered what had become of you. I trust you are _enjoying_ your new bride?"

Hermione blushed deeply while Severus offered a curt nod. "Marius. Miss Parkinson."

Pansy - looking remarkably less pig-faced, now that she wasn't snarling at Hermione - seemed distracted; she was watching a lively Astoria Greengrass promenade around the room as if she were already lady of the manor.

"My congratulations on your betrothal, Miss Parkinson," Severus said smoothly.

"What? Oh, thank you, Professor." Pansy glanced warily at Nott, who was staring at her angrily. "We are very excited."

_I doubt that_, Hermione thought rebelliously. In Nott's presence, Pansy seemed meeker than Hermione had ever seen her; it was terribly unsettling. The greying wizard tightened his grip on Pansy's arm as the girl stifled a gasp.

"I must find Rolf," Severus said after a charged moment. "Miss Parkinson, Marius." They exchanged nods and turned away once more.

Before they could make their way to the Averys, a hush descended over the crowded hall. All eyes turned toward the grand stone staircase from which Lord Voldemort was descending, followed closely by Lucius and Narcissa. He paused on the first landing, surveying the crowd with a look of smug satisfaction. "My beloved followers," he spoke grandly, "welcome." On some unspoken cue, the witches and wizards swept into simultaneous bows and curtseys. Hermione hastened to follow suit.

Hermione watched through lowered lashes as Voldemort strode down the stairs and across the hall, coming to a halt in front of her.

"Madam Snape," Voldemort hissed, "Rise."

Hermione stood slowly, fighting the fear threatening to overwhelm her. Her shields were in place as she met the glinting red eyes. "My Lord," she murmured, steeling herself for his mental assault.

"Join me, Madam Snape," he commanded, extending his arm to her.

"Thank you, my Lord." She took his arm gingerly, fearing the contact would strengthen his ability to break through her carefully constructed shields.

He escorted her through the silent hall, every eye watching her with merciless scrutiny. Voldemort's skin felt unbearably thin and papery under her hand; she fought the urge to recoil from the touch.

"You look well, madam. I trust our dear Severus has been treating you with the honour and respect you deserve?"

Hermione hesitated, unsure just how much respect Voldemort truly believed she deserved. "My husband has acted as befits a man of his station," she said demurely.

Voldemort laughed; a high, shrill sound that seemed all the more unnatural coming from such a disturbing visage. "How like Severus you sound. Perhaps you are more well-suited than expected."

"Thank you, my Lord."

They walked up the grand staircase and Hermione heard the others fall into step behind them, whispering amongst them. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, Hermione felt the slightest tug on her consciousness, so subtle she might have imagined it. _This is it_, she realized. She pushed a seemingly random series of memories through her mind; her nervousness as Severus approached her bed that first night, how besotted she was with Prince Park, her instructions to Mitzi the night before, and, finally, Severus thrusting against her, her hands bound above her head as she moaned her pleasures. The tickle in her mind disappeared then. She risked a sideways glance at Voldemort and found him smirking nastily.

The Great Hall at Malfoy Manor gleamed with brilliance as it had on her wedding day. This time, however, a single long table stretched the length of the room. Twenty elaborately carved wooden chairs sat on each side, and a single carved throne dominated the head of the table. Voldemort led her to the far end of the room and helped her into the gilded chair to the right of the carved throne; she stifled a shudder at the feel of his cold hands on her bare back as she sat. The others joined them quickly; Severus to her left, Lucius across from her, and Narcissa seated diagonally from her. As Voldemort took his placed at the head of the table in the ornate throne, Lucius flashed her a look of irritation; Hermione was unsure if the irritation was caused by being demoted from head of the table in his own manor, or from being forced to sit across from a witch of inferior blood.

Severus sat next to her, broody and silent as he so often was. His face was impassive, betraying no emotion. Eyes never straying near her, he looked around the room as the Death Eaters and their wives streamed into the hall, filing into seats by rank silently. Under the table, Severus hand reached out to grasp hers tightly. The gentle pressure reassured her greatly. Hermione looked down the table and realized with a jolt just how many of the faces she recognized. _I've fought so many of these Death Eaters. And now I'm here with them, at their meeting._ It was a strange sensation; seeing the women she and Narcissa had sipped tea with here, sitting next to men who had actively tried to kill her.

"My loyal followers," Voldemort said solemnly as he stood at his place at the head of the table. "We are here tonight, of course, to celebrate brother Lucius' appointment as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. As you all know, Lucius' appointment is crucial to easing the transition from the defunct Ministry of Magic to the new order that we are creating. In the coming weeks, Lucius will lead the country through many reformations."

The guests applauded politely; Lucius Malfoy had the audacity to look modest.

As the applause quieted, Voldemort continued. "Our time has begun. Our world is awakening. We have won power over Wizarding Britain. Now, we must win over the wizards of Britain. I know, my loyal followers, that you have all faced difficult times as we fought valiantly to bring about the great victory we so longed for. What we have dreamed of for years has become a reality. The most precious possession each of you carries is your blood: the magic that flows through each of you. That is what we have fought to protect. We have fought to protect our lives, the lives of our wives and children. And it is for those, of sacred magical blood, that we will continue to fight. We must never tire, never grow weary, never lose faith. A new order is being built in our world: an order that will protect our way of life."

Voldemort paused to accept the thunderous applause ringing through the hall.

"Our world, which has grown so meek and humble, must be carefully and thoughtfully cultivated and managed. I have gathered you here tonight to announce my plans for the cultivation and management of our world. At Midsummer, I will officially abolish the Ministry of Magic and assume my rightful place as Lord Chancellor. Many of your brothers will join me in the noble fight to rebuild our great world. Rise, ministers."

At his command, Severus, Lucius, and several others stood.

"Severus Snape, Minister of Foreign Affairs." Severus nodded at Voldemort but ignored the applause of his compatriots.

"Marius Nott, Minister of the Interior." Nott, looking as cold and unkind as Hermione had seen him before, smiled emotionlessly at the group. Pansy Parkinson glanced up at him fearfully from her seat beside him. Hermione applauded politely.

"Lucius Malfoy, Minister of Propaganda." Narcissa beamed at her husband who gave a smug smile to the applauding guests. Draco, seated to Narcissa's right, shared his father's smug expression.

Voldemort continued. "Quentin Rosier, Minister of Economics." More polite applause for the sour-looking wizard. Hermione wondered belatedly if this were the father of Evan Rosier, one of the Slytherins Severus had taken the Mark with.

"Rolf Avery, Minister of Justice." Hermione applauded politely for the fifth time_, _while trying to imagine a young Severus kneeling next to this man and taking the Dark Mark.

"Randolph Mulciber, Minister of Defense." Daphne Greengrass sat to Mulciber's right and applauded with youthful enthusiasm.

"Thorfinn Rowle, Minister of Education." Hermione recognized the hulking blond man from the attack in the café after escaping Bill and Fleur's wedding.

At Voldemort's nod, the ministers returned to their seats. "Many of you here tonight will be called upon in time to help further our great cause. But for now, let us revel in our victory and the promise of a great future." His speech concluded, Voldemort returned to his seat as individual bowls of soup magically appeared.

"I fear I do you a great injustice, Madam Snape, by sending your husband away on state matters so soon after you were wed," Voldemort said as the conversation swelled around them.

"You do me a great honour, my Lord, by allowing my husband to serve your noble purpose." _Oh Harry, forgive me_.

"Perhaps it would be prudent for you to have company while Severus is away. I'm sure Bellatrix would be most eager to serve as your companion."

Severus stiffened almost imperceptibly. "You are gracious, my Lord, though I have already enlisted Madam Malfoy's services as a companion for Madam Snape."

Voldemort stared at Severus for a long moment. "Yes, a very prudent thing to do, Severus," he said finally. "How astute you are." He shifted his gaze to Hermione. "Tell me, Madam Snape, what do you think of our new government?"

Of all the scenarios she had imagined, this question had never been one she considered. She stared at her soup dumbly for a moment, feeling the relentless gazes of the Malfoys upon her. "I must admit, my Lord, that my own views were, until quite recently, shaped by those who sought only to misinform and abuse their positions. I was a stranger to this world, and unwisely allied myself with those whom I thought stood for the noblest cause. Now, fortunately, I am amongst those who truly wish to further the prospects of the Wizarding race. Your new government is ambitious, but I believe it will take the ambition of powerful Wizards to elevate our world to the level which it truly belongs."

Voldemort looked slowly from her to Severus then back again. "You have done well in re-educating the girl, Severus," he said with a nod. "I am pleased."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus murmured.

* * *

It was a strangely mundane thing, watching Voldemort eat. Voldemort's personal health habits weren't something Hermione had ever considered, but as she watched him out of the corner of her eye she found herself wondering idly if Voldemort slept, and if so, where.

"I have high hopes for your trip to the North, Severus," said Voldemort as he poured a goblet of wine. "I understand the new Durmstrang Headmaster to be… sympathetic to our cause."

"I've always found Durmstrang's predilection towards the Dark Arts to be admirable," said Lucius.

Severus nodded in agreement. "It is true, my Lord, that the school's attitude toward the Dark Arts is far more tolerant than Hogwarts has been in the past. The Northern countries have been our allies for nearly a millennia."

"Didn't you know the Durmstrang Headmaster rather well, Madam Snape?" Narcissa asked. "I thought Draco mentioned something about that."

Hermione frowned. "I'm afraid I'm not sure who the Durmstrang Headmaster is," she admitted. A year on the run had left her ill informed about many of the recent Wizarding events.

"Viktor Krum assumed the position at the first of the year," Severus explained quietly.

_Viktor?_ _Surely he's far too young to be Headmaster! Though I suppose if Durmstrang allowed Karkaroff to be Headmaster when he was a coward and a Death Eater…_

"What say you, Madam Snape? Will Master Krum prove an ally to us, or an adversary?"

Hermione cleared her mind and turned to look directly at Voldemort. "I believe Master Krum will be a loyal ally to you, my Lord," she said with a deferential incline of her head.

An evil smile spread across Voldemort's snake-like face, doing little to soften his harsh appearance. "_Excellent_," he hissed.

"Has Slughorn accepted your offer to become Headmaster, my Lord?" Severus inquired.

"He has _not. _I fear our esteemed former Head of House may need some convincing. He foolishly believes he may stay impartial in our new world. Perhaps…" Voldemort said, looking pointedly at Draco, "Perhaps young Draco should pay him a visit. To _persuade_ him."

Draco looked stricken. "O-Of course, my Lord," he stammered.

"You have had such _luck _with Headmasters in the past."

Marius Nott and Quentin Rosier laughed harshly; Lucius and Narcissa kept their eyes on the roasted hare that had appeared on shining gold plates before them.

If Hermione had been perceptive before leaving Hogwarts, a year on the run had only sharpened her abilities. Satisfied with both her complicity and obedience, Voldemort seemed content to largely ignore her, choosing instead to converse with Lucius and Severus. This left Hermione free to survey her surroundings and the motley assortment of witches and wizards Voldemort favored above all others.

Draco sat next to Astoria, who, from what Hermione could see, had kept up a steady stream of endless conversation from the moment they sat down. The girl barely stopped long enough to eat, but Quentin Rosier, who sat to her left, seemed bemused by the girl's earnest enthusiasm. From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see that Pansy, who sat between Severus and Marius Nott, had barely touched her food; she was too busy staring longingly at Draco, who was seated across from her and was stealing furtive glances at her whenever he could. Narcissa had noticed as well, as she was desperately trying to draw Draco into conversation.

Further down the table, she could see Amycus Carrow leering at Daphne Greengrass, who sat to his right; this was much to the annoyance of Randolph Mulciber, who sat on the other side of her, and Thorfinn Rowle, who sat across from her. Mulciber seemed ready to draw his wand as Amycus' hand once more grazed Daphne's shoulder.

Cordelia Rosier – of Acromantula hat fame – was engrossed in conversation with Rolf Avery, whom, as Hermione vaguely remembered from one of Narcissa's many lessons, was his aunt. _If I were to make a chart of this table and all the familial connections, I fear it would cross a few too many times. _It was no secret that the old pureblood families had maintained their supposed purity by intermarrying, but based on the limited number of potential partners and the long history of purity, she concluded that every pureblood at this table must be related no less than two generations back. _It's no wonder they're going mad_, she thought wickedly as she spotted Alecto Carrow glaring at her from the other end of the table. _They're so terribly inbred. Perhaps if they stick to their archaic convictions for just a few more generations, they'll breed themselves out of existence._

* * *

Hermione suffered through thirteen excruciatingly slow courses. At last, pudding was finished and Voldemort rose to offer Hermione his arm. "I must say, Madam Snape," he said as he led her from the hall, "I have found you to be a most refreshing companion. How well Severus has managed you."

"You must dine with us at Prince Park soon, my Lord," she said vapidly, straining to keep her Occlumency shields in place.

"When you return from the North, Severus," Voldemort said to the dark man who had emerged from the hall behind them, "bring the girl. I believe I can make use of her. You have served me well."

"You honour me, my Lord," Severus said with a low bow.

"Return home with your bride, Severus," he commanded. "Enjoy the gift I have bestowed upon you."

Voldemort moved away to speak to the other witches and wizards who had begun streaming out of the hall. Severus caught the attention of Rolf Avery and motioned for him to wait before he leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear. "The less savory festivities will begin shortly. We must leave now. Find the elf with our cloaks and meet me in the entrance hall. I must speak with Rolf."

Hermione nodded and set off down the staircase in search of the elf that had greeted them. As she descended the stairs, she could hear raised voices coming from the entrance hall. She paused just out of view, fearful of discovery.

"Will you keep your voice down?" Narcissa Malfoy hissed angrily.

Another voice responded shrilly. "_Never_ presume to tell me how to live, Cissy!" _Bellatrix,_ Hermione realized.

"You are running out of time, Bella! Lucius overheard Rodolphus speaking with the Dark Lord about –"

"Do you think I am unaware of that?" Bellatrix hissed. "Rodolphus is a fool!"

Narcissa's voice sounded frantic. "Bella, this is the second time he has approached the Dark Lord with such a request. I fear a third time!"

Bellatrix cold laugh rang throughout the stone hall. "You worry too much, little sister. I _will_ find a way, even if I have to steal one _or worse_."

"Bella!" Narcissa gasped. "You can't mean –"

"Quiet!" Bellatrix hissed. "Someone's coming."

Hermione nearly screamed aloud when Severus hand grazed across her back. She spun around, startled. He put a finger to his lips to silence her before taking her arm and escorting her down the stairs.

"Ah, Narcissa," Severus said smoothly. "Thank you for a lovely evening. I'm afraid we must make our excuses; I leave for the North at dawn."

Bellatrix glared murderously at them both, but Narcissa offered them a warm smile. "Safe travels, Severus. I assure you, I will take excellent care of your bride while you are away." She stepped forward and offered them each a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Until tomorrow, Hermione."

"Thank you, Narcissa. Everything was splendid." She gave each witch a kind smile as the house-elf appeared with the cloaks. "Until tomorrow." As they walked through the grand front doors, Hermione could feel Bellatrix's cold stare piercing her back.

Severus pulled her into his arms the moment they Apparated into the dark hall of Prince Park. "You did well," he murmured against her ear. "So very well."

The pride in his voice made Hermione flush. "Thank Merlin it's over."

"The Dark Lord thinks you his greatest triumph yet," Severus purred. "All eyes were upon you. You looked unbearably tempting all evening."

All thoughts of Bellatrix Lestrange, inbred purebloods, and the Dark Lord were wiped from Hermione's mind as Severus pulled her up the stairs to show her _just_ how tempting her found her.

* * *

"You look quite like a painting I saw in a book once," Severus told her as he buttoned his white shirt.

Early morning light threatened to break through the heavy curtains of his bedroom. He had awoken her with demanding kisses and a hand caressing her breasts; they had made love lazily.

"Do I?" she asked as she stretched languorously.

"Very near. May I?" he asked, abandoning his buttons. At Hermione's nod he came toward her. His elegant hands moved her left leg to hang off the bed slightly; the right remained bent but he tilted it so it just covered the silky curls at the apex of her thighs. Her left arm he extended and lay next to her head, while the other he left sprawled across the space he had so recently occupied. With gentle movements he arranged her wild curls in a corona spread out behind her.

"There," he said quietly when he had finished. With a flick of his wand the heavy brocade curtains flew open wide, illuminating the room in the early morning sunlight. Hermione closed her eyes at the light filling the room. "Perfection," he murmured worshipfully. "Had you been born two millennia ago I would have built a temple in your honour."

Hermione was taken back his solemn voice and found she was blushing uncomfortably.

"Are you ashamed of your nakedness?" he asked once he noticed the colour creeping over her face.

"A little," she said softly.

"You shouldn't be. You are lovely. I wish to always remember you this way: so open and tender. In my dying hour, this will be the image of you I recall with great affection."

"I'm not very beautiful," she objected.

"You're quite pretty, when you aren't being bossy or shrill."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, and to her surprise, she meant it a great deal.

"I shall return Wednesday," he told her as he packed a small bag. "Narcissa will arrive shortly before tea today. Do try to avoid any mischief between now and then." He smirked at her exasperated expression.

Once he packed, he sat on the edge of the bed and ran a slender hand up her body. "I'll have Mitzi bring you up a tray. No need going down to breakfast alone."

"I don't mind going down," she insisted, hoping to avoid extra work for the elves.

"Stay," he commanded. "I like the idea of you here in my bed while I'm away." Severus kissed her forehead before he rose. "The house wards itself automatically, so you and Narcissa should be well-protected in the event any complications arise. Should you need to contact me, send Mercury."

"Be careful."

"Always."

He cast one last look over Hermione as she lay in the warmth of his bed. Hermione thought she saw the corners of his lips quirk up into almost a smile, but he turned and swept from the room so quickly she thought she must have imagined it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The painting referenced is _Rolla_ by Henri Gervex. I've always imagined Severus had quite a lot of free time between Voldemort wars.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Author's Note: **I adore you all for leaving such kind reviews. Your words are inspiring! Thanks for reading. I'm nervous about this chapter... I wrote this months ago, not long after I started the story; I've been editing it ever since. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from these stories.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen – Startling Revelations**

"I've already received _seventy_ owls back accepting invitations to the ball," Narcissa Malfoy said smugly.

Hermione looked up from her book and gave her a forced smile, but Narcissa continued to stare at her pointedly. "That's, erm, lovely. Really wonderful."

Narcissa smiled complacently, settled back into the divan, and returned to flipping through a heavy volume bearing Twilfitt and Tatting's intertwined golden Ts. The blonde witch had been there less than an hour, but already Hermione felt her brain beginning to atrophy. "It really _was_ a charming dinner, wasn't it?"

"The _most_ charming," Hermione answered for the hundredth time. "_Really_ wonderful." She was grateful, of course, for Narcissa's presence rather than Bellatrix's – _that_ was a truly horrible thought to consider – but the afternoon had been spent discussing ever infinitesimal detail of who had worn what and they had spent the better part of fifteen minutes discussing the watercress soup that had been served.

"Amycus was in fine form, pawing at Daphne Greengrass like that. And Alecto!" Narcissa shuddered. "I don't care if they are both Carrows – they have _such_ horrid manners."

"Alecto seemed quite fond of Severus," Hermione said idly as she flipped through her book. She had found a dusty tome on Wizarding genealogy in the library that went back nearly four hundred years and had been trying to find which of the ancient pureblood families Severus was related to through his Prince ancestors.

Narcissa smiled conspiratorially. "Oh, Alecto has been enamored with Severus since she was in school. He was her Head of House; she's been trying to snag him ever since. You should have seen the way she through herself at him at the victory celebrations. It was absolutely _immoral._" She raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "Your husband is quite a catch, you know. I thought Daisy Parkinson was going to turn her wand on herself when she heard he was to marry _you_."

"Astoria mentioned something about that at tea."

"Ivy's been throwing her eldest daughter in his path since the day she finished her N.E.W.T.s. Severus said once he would rather marry a three-headed dog. The dog would be three times as intelligent as Daisy."

Hermione smirked. _Perhaps Severus has a better sense of humor than I thought_.

After a moment, Narcissa's smile faded. "I fear Pansy's attachment to Draco is far too strong. Even Bellatrix mentioned how frequent their glances were last night and she's not one to pick up on the subtleties of romance."

It seemed pointless to deny such an obvious fact, but Hermione did not add that she too had noticed Pansy and Draco's amorous looks across the table. "Astoria is a sweet girl," Hermione said after a long pause. "I promised to invite her to tea soon. Perhaps Monday? Draco could join us, as well."

"I think that's a splendid idea! Astoria will be thrilled to be the first to receive a formal invitation to tea from you. They're all clamoring to see the house."

Hermione crossed to the small writing desk in the corner and removed parchment and a quill. "That reminds me," she said as she penned an invitation to tea, "Severus agreed to host the Governors Ball here."

Narcissa's enthusiastic reply was interrupted by Norris appearing at the door. "Forgive me, madam," he said with a low bow, "but a caller has arrived. A Madam Dolores Umbridge is very insistent she speak with you."

Hermione had not seen Dolores Umbridge since her ill-fated journey into the Ministry of Magic last year to retrieve Slytherin's locket. She loathed the toad-like woman with nearly as much fervor as she hated Voldemort. Dolores Umbridge was tyrannical and calculating; her presence was very troubling.

"I despise that woman," Narcissa said with an uncharacteristic sound of disgust. "She has ideas far above her station."

"Why is she here?" Hermione asked shrilly. She thought for a moment that perhaps Voldemort had changed his mind and Umbridge was being sent here to imprison her, or worse.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "No doubt she is eager to ingratiate herself to you now that she's been demoted."

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to gather her composure. "Bring her in, please Norris, and owl this to Greengrass Gardens," she said as she handed him the folded letter.

"Right away, madam."

Hermione stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, suddenly overwhelmed with fear. If Umbridge attacked her here, in her own home, would she be able to defend herself? Would Narcissa Malfoy come to her aid? She grasped the silver bracelet that now housed her wand for reassurance.

Dolores Umbridge had changed little over the last year; she had retained her heavy figure and gaudy pink bow, though her hair was considerably greyer than it had been at their last encounter. She gave Hermione her most saccharine smile as she entered. "Madam Snape!" Her voice was still breathless and unnaturally girlish for a woman of her age. "How _lovely_ to see you again."

Hermione doubted that very much, but she stood and returned the woman's fake smile nevertheless. "Madam Umbridge. How kind of you to come. Please, have a seat."

"Oh, Madam Malfoy!" Umbridge exclaimed as she noticed Narcissa's cool presence. "What a pleasant to surprise to see _two_ such fine ladies."

"Madam Umbridge," Narcissa replied coolly as Umbridge settled into a chair near her.

Hermione and Umbridge stared at each other expectantly for a long moment; behind the simpering smile, Hermione could detect the burning hatred Umbridge possessed for her – probably due, at least partially, to Hermione luring her into the Forbidden Forest once.

"I was so pleased to read of your marriage in the _Daily Prophet_, Madam Snape. Severus and I become so _close_ during my time at Hogwarts."

"Erm, yes, of course," Hermione said tightly.

Narcissa covered her laugh with a cough; Umbridge turned her beady eyes toward the witch. "And you cannot imagine how thrilled I was, Madam Malfoy, to learn of your husband's appointment."

"You are so kind, Madam Umbridge," Narcissa said icily. "I understand you have a new position within the Ministry?"

Umbridge puffed considerably. "That's exactly what I hoped to speak with Madam Snape about today. Perhaps over tea?"

Narcissa's look of annoyance at Umbridge's presence turned deadly; irritation rolled off of her in waves. "Madam Snape and I were just about to take a turn around the gardens, actually." Both witches turned to stare pointedly at Hermione.

"Oh! Of course, tea would be fine," said Hermione hastily. "Would you care to stay for tea, Madam Umbridge?"

Norris was quickly summoned and within a few minutes they were seated in the Glass Garden, table laden with teacakes and biscuits.

"I was so _pleased_ to read of your marriage," Umbridge repeated as she helped herself to her fourth chocolate biscuit in as many minutes. "It's so _rare_ that one finds young women willing to take on the responsibility of matrimony."

_As if she doesn't know the circumstances surrounding my situation_, Hermione thought insolently as sipped her tea.

Umbridge swept crumbs from her ostentatious pink suit as she continued. "It is so crucial that our ancient heritage be preserved and passed on to new generations. Without the devotion of witches like yourselves, our people are in danger of extinction."

"How lucky we are, then, that your new office will address those concerns."

"I quite agree, Madam Malfoy. Though the war may be over, the battle is only truly beginning. This battle, however, depends on the resolve and determination of our people." Umbridge sat down her teacup and clasped her hands together eagerly. "As Head of the Department of Marriage and Family Affairs, my _primary _goal is to bolster family values within our country. We need more fine witches, such as you, to return us a mindset of selflessness and courage."

Hermione frowned. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

Umbridge smiled sympathetically. "A return to the home, my dear! The Ministry is inundated with young witches eschewing families altogether in favor of careers. It is a travesty! I came to speak to you today, Madam Snape, in the hopes that _you_ would agree to help your country and your Ministry in promoting family values and the _proper_ places of witches in our society."

Hermione's hand twitched toward the wand concealed in her bracelet. _I can think of a few things I'd like to teach her about the 'proper' place of witches in society_...

"I'm sure you'd want to speak with your husband about all this, of course," Umbridge continued as she refilled her teacup. "But I've spoken with Rita Skeeter – such a fine writer, I always enjoy her articles – and she's agreed to do a feature story in _Witch Weekly_ on you and your 'domestic bliss', Madam Snape," she said with a little giggle.

The thought of Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter discussing her made Hermione's skin crawl. "I'm not sure that would be –"

"And I very much hope you'll both join the organization I am founding," Umbridge interrupted. "The National Women's Society. An organization devoted to promoting family values and showing our world that the _new_ modern witch is the bearer of Wizarding culture and moral standards for our people."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "The _modern_ witch?"

Umbridge smiled at her condescendingly. "The modern witch is one who has achieved health, self-discipline, courage, grace, and loyalty; a witch not unlike yourself, Madam Snape. And you, Madam Malfoy."

"An honorable endeavor, I'm sure," Narcissa said with a smile that looked as if she smelt something terribly rotten.

"Nothing _official _can happen until after Minister Nott is installed, of course – he's to be the Minister of the Interior, you know."

Narcissa bristled visibly. "Yes, Madam Snape and I are very well informed."

Umbridge smiled condescendingly at Narcissa, as if she very much doubted her.

"Erm, more biscuits, Madam Umbridge?"

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I do hope you'll both join my little organization. It's truly up to fine witches like you to set a good example for impressionable young girls."

Narcissa poured another cup of tea. "We will both do whatever is necessary to further the Dark Lord's cause. We are, after all, his faithful servants." Umbridge set her mouth into a thin line, clearly disliking the reminder that she was not one of the Dark Lord's inner circle. "You've served under several Ministers, have you not, Madam Umbridge?"

The simpering smile disappeared. "Yes, many Ministers have come and gone, but _I _have remained," Umbridge snapped, loosing her girlish composure. She seemed to catch herself, as the saccharine smile spread across her face once more. "Hem, hem," said Umbridge; using the grating throat-clearing cough Hermione had heard so many times. "I do fear I've kept you from your turn about the gardens long enough, my dears. Health is _such_ a crucial aspect of the modern witch; I'm so _glad_ to see you both committed to the same ideals our department shares." She stood and brushed biscuit crumbs daintily from her large bosom. "Thank you so much for tea, Madam Snape. I know we're going to be such _good_ friends. Good day, Madam Malfoy." With one last condescending look at Narcissa, Umbridge turned on her pink heel and marched from the room.

"She is unbearable," Narcissa announced once the front door was shut firmly behind Dolores Umbridge's large backside. "All vinegar and vitriol. She's just bitter that Lucius has replaced her."

"At least she's gone," Hermione said with a sigh of relief. "Honestly, what nonsense. The 'proper place' of witches, indeed."

Narcissa looked at her strangely. "How much has Severus told you, Hermione?"

"About what?" she asked with a frown.

There was a long pause. "Marius Nott is… very traditional. He and the Dark Lord have very little regard for witches. Dolores Umbridge may be obnoxious, but her words have come straight from Marius."

"Surely they don't expect all witches to marry and leave the workforce?" Hermione asked incredulously. "That's impractical."

Narcissa shrugged. "The Dark Lord is concerned with bolstering the Wizarding population. How else do you expect to achieve that?"

"But Narcissa! You would have them all lose their independence?"

Her pale eyes flashed dangerously. "This is the ambition of powerful wizards," she said carefully, parroting Hermione's words to Voldemort the night before.

A month spent with Narcissa had taught Hermione to recognize the warning in her tone. "Perhaps we should take that walk now?"

Narcissa's gaze softened. "A fine idea."

* * *

Saturday passed quickly after Umbridge's visit. To Hermione's surprise, Narcissa had willingly accompanied her to the small stone church Sunday morning with little more than a sigh of boredom as they listened to Gerald Highland's long-winded sermon.

"There hasn't been a ball here since Severus' grandmother was alive," Narcissa said dreamily as they strolled through the wooded path from the church to Prince Park. "Margaret Prince was not a woman to be trifled with, but she was a formidable hostess."

"Did you know Severus' mother?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Narcissa pursed her lips. "No; Eileen was estranged from her family by the time I was born. She and my mother were at school together, though."

"Has Severus ever spoken about her?"

"Severus has never been particularly loquacious."

"He is quite an enigma," Hermione agreed with a slight smile.

"Perhaps, but he seems to have adjusted to matrimony rather better than expected." The blonde witch eyed her expectantly.

"Erm, yes, I suppose we both have," Hermione blushed.

"Oh, come now, Hermione," Narcissa said conspiratorially as she linked her arm's through Hermione's. "I've been alone with you nearly an entire day and you've been shockingly tight-lipped about the more sordid details of your marriage." She laughed lightly at Hermione's crimson cheeks. "Or maybe _sordid_ isn't the right word. _Lascivious_, perhaps? _Intimate_? As bright as you are, surely you understand my meaning."

"Surely this is an inappropriate subject," Hermione said hastily, her face uncomfortably warm.

Narcissa gave a dramatic sigh. "I only ask, dear girl, because with young brides that particular… _aspect_ of marriage can be the most troubling. When I was a girl, my mother taught me to smile at a man in a way that was both chaste and suggestive… to speak in clever turns of phrase to catch his interest. I learned how to tilt my fan just _so,_" she said with a slight flick of her hand, "to draw a man's eye to the delicate curve of my neck. But never, in all our days together, did my mother ever mention what on earth I was to do with a man once I was married to him. _That_ all came as a rather dreadful surprise."

"I-I never considered that, Narcissa," Hermione stuttered. She felt childish for never considering Narcissa's attempts to start a dialogue on more sensitive matters might stem from a place of genuine concern. "I apologize. I should have been more forthcoming with you. Things are… progressing satisfactorily," she continued, trying to choose her words carefully. "Severus is very… _thorough_."

It was strange to see Narcissa Malfoy - pureblood ice-queen and Lucius Malfoy's dutiful wife -dissolve into such raucous peals of laughter that tears filled her grey eyes. Strange, but somehow endearing, as Hermione found herself laughing as well.

"_Thorough_," Narcissa repeated once her laughter abated. "How very envious Daisy Parkinson will be to learn that."

* * *

After lunch, Narcissa excused herself to go rest; "Sermons always leave me rather drained," she had said with a slight shudder. Hermione was ecstatic at the prospect of doing a bit of light reading without Narcissa's constant commentary on who had yet to accept her invitation to the masquerade.

En route to the library, Hermione was halted by a prim voice. "Madam Snape? Madam Snape. Over here, please." Hermione looked around, startled by the voice. After a moment, she noticed the portrait of a thin, elderly witch beckoning to her. The lady was not very beautiful, but she had a cold sort of refinement that made her rather captivating. She wore an elaborately beaded gown and her raven hair was swept up into an elegant twist. The witch smiled stiffly as Hermione approached. "Hello, Madam Snape. My name is Margaret Prince. I am Severus' grandmother."

"Oh! Hello. It's nice to meet you, Madam Prince," Hermione replied kindly. "Norris and Mitzi told me you hosted tea in the Glass Garden when you lived here. It really is the loveliest room for tea."

Madam Prince had dark, almost black eyes. _Just like Severus_, Hermione mused. The eyes looked at her curiously now, examining her features carefully. "Thank you dear," she said finally. "I trust you have settled in quite comfortably? Prince Park is the loveliest home. I do hope you will enjoy it as much as I did."

"I adore the house," Hermione replied earnestly. "It's magnificent."

"Mmm, I quite agree dear child. Would you mind if we adjourned our conversation to a more… intimate location?" she asked, glancing towards the surrounding portraits from the corner of her eye.

"Of course. There is a landscape in my, erm, your former bedroom… Would that be appropriate?"

"Thank you, that will be suitable. I shall meet you there shortly." Madam Prince stalked away from her portrait, much to the chagrin of her neighbors.

Hermione made her way up the stairs, considering what Madam Prince could possibly need to speak with her about privately. _Is she angry that I'm a Muggle-born? She seems nice enough, but she never spoke to Severus' mother again after she ran off with a Muggle… _

Madam Prince had taken up residence in a landscape portrait near Hermione's dressing table. Hermione approached her hesitantly. "What did you wish to speak to me about, madam?"

"To be perfectly honest, Madam Snape, I was not thrilled when Hadrian told me that Severus had decided to marry a Muggle-born witch." _Here it comes_, Hermione thought: _More pureblood prejudice_. "However, after watching you over the last few days, I have finally decided that you _are_ a lady worthy of such a grand estate. I am… ashamed that my own prejudice has prevented me from welcoming you properly prior to this."

"Oh! Thank you," Hermione replied uncomfortably. _I wonder what convinced her?_

Madam Prince eyed the room sadly. "This is such a lovely room for a bride. It still looks just as it did when I came here as a bride in 1915," she said, her voice full of nostalgia. I still remember how frightened I was of my mother-in-law then; the Widow Prince was quite a witch, I assure you. She was very welcoming to me, however. I do regret that there was no Prince lady to welcome you into the home as a bride. It is most unfortunate."

Hermione smiled up at her kindly. "It's quite all right, Madam Prince. The house-elves were most thorough with their tour."

"Oh yes, I suppose they were. And you have the Prince Pendant, I presume?"

Hermione picked the pendant up and stepped closer so she could see. "Yes, it's very beautiful. I did some reading on protection amulets; such an interesting piece of magic," she said thoughtfully.

Madam Prince stared at the pendant fondly. "It suits you," she said gently. "I was so honored to wear it as a young bride. Tell me, what did you learn about the pendant through your research?"

"Not terribly much, I'm afraid. The book said that it would protect the wearer from harm and kill anyone who attempted to take the amulet by force. It also said that the pendant would glow any time it is imbibed with new strength or magic. I wasn't quite sure what that meant."

Madam Prince smiled knowingly. "That's why I wanted to speak with you privately, dear. The pendant will burn when a magical child is conceived," she said conspiratorially.

"Oh." Hermione stared at the portrait for a moment, blinking repeatedly. Then the floor rushed up to meet her and the world went dark.

* * *

"Madam Snape! Madam Snape!" Bitzi's voice was calling to her frantically, but Hermione was hesitant to wake up. There was something, some thought, lingering on the edge of her consciousness. To wake up would mean bringing the thought back into focus; though she did not know what the thought was, she knew there was something she did not want to remember just yet.

Mitzi's voice was speaking now. "Send Walby to fetch a Healer, Bitzi! And fetch Madam Malfoy! Quickly!"

Hermione opened her eyes groggily. Mitzi, Bitzi, Iyra, Meyer, and Norris were watching her with wide, worried eyes. When they saw her eyes open, Meyer and Norris hurried forward. Their tiny hands helped her to sit up. "We will fetch a Healer right away, Madam Snape!" Norris' voice was frantic.

She shook her head. "No, thank you Norris, but that will not be necessary. Please don't bother Madam Malfoy. I-I was just… overwhelmed. I will be fine."

Norris nodded worriedly. "Perhaps some tea then, Madam Snape?" Mitzi asked hopefully.

"That would be lovely, thank you," said Hermione meekly. "Would you mind terribly giving me just a moment? I need to collect myself. If you would leave a tea tray in the library, I'll be down shortly." The elves nodded and popped out of view.

Looking up, Hermione found Madam Prince staring at her anxiously from her portrait; her heavy brows were furrowed in concern. "I'm afraid I gave you quite a shock, poor child," she said once they were alone. "That was not my intention, I assure you. I assumed you had been… _intimate_ with your husband, but I fear now that I assumed too much. Forgive me," she said uneasily as she wrung her hands together.

Pulling herself to her feet, Hermione walked closer to the portrait and sat down at the chair in front of her dressing table. "_It burned_," she muttered.

Madam Prince's eyebrows shot up. "It did? When?" she asked incredulously.

"Last Friday night," Hermione answered. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks until she was blushing furiously. "We… I…" She stopped, unable to put her thoughts into words.

"Oh my. I do apologize. I should have welcomed you when you arrived and warned you," Madam Prince said regretfully.

"So this means I…" Hermione could not say it out loud. _Sweet Merlin_. _It's not possible. _

Madam Prince smiled genuinely for the first time. "It means a magical child was conceived, yes. Congratulations, Madam Snape."

Hermione was unable to speak. _Oh gods. I'm pregnant. _In spite of her acceptance of this reality and the conversations she and Severus had regarding this very topic, it still seemed like some distant future. _Not now. Not already. And I'm going to have to tell Severus? _Her stomach dropped at the prospect.

"I know this is quite a shock, Madam Snape, but this truly is wonderful news. Pureblood couples often have difficulty conceiving. I suppose it _is_ rather fortunate that you are a Muggle-born," Madam Prince said thoughtfully. "You should rest, child. I can't have Severus returning home to find that you've fainted again. Go on; we will speak again soon, I assure you." She smiled kindly at Hermione.

"Thank you," Hermione replied softly. "I'm sorry if I caused you to worry. I appreciate you sharing this with me." She rose slowly and walked away, fully intending to march straight down to the library and find a spellbook that might confirm such shocking news.

* * *

Hermione huffed in frustration as she pushed aside yet another book. She couldn't find any texts related to family planning, contraception, or raising magical children. _I need a spellbook on household magic… Or health, perhaps? How is it possible that in seven years of Wizarding education no one at Hogwarts mentioned _anything_ about witch's health? I should write a letter to the Board of Governors. Though Madam Pomfrey would probably have a stroke if she were forced to teach sexual education..._

A large stack of books was piled around her where she sat on the floor. She bit her lower lip and leaned back against the bookshelves behind her. _What I need is a Muggle chemist shop and a regular, non-magical pregnancy test. But I doubt Narcissa would find that a suitable excursion_. She smirked at the notion of explaining such a thing to Narcissa Malfoy: _"Yes, you urinate on this stick and then wait to see if the little lines appear."_

Humorous though it was, it hardly seemed a realistic option. Her hand wondered down to the thrice-damned pendant dangling against her blouse. It _had_ burned – hadn't it? She _had_ been terribly drunk at the time… perhaps she had just imagined it. Surely it would be too soon to tell, anyway. She contemplated asking Narcissa: she _must_ know the spell! But that presented a slew of new complications, not the least of which would be explaining the whole thing to Severus. At the thought of him, she was struck by an idea. _He probably locked the damned books in his study, _she realized as she scrambled up from the floor. _He would have hidden any books with contraceptive charms or potions, afraid I would find them... _

After a few minutes of searching, she found a faded text with peeling purple letters titled "_What Every Witch Should Know"._ "Oh, but this is ancient!" she groaned aloud. _Surely the Wizarding World has made strides in the area of reproductive health since 1912. This must have belonged to Severus' grandmother! _Sitting down at Severus' desk, she began to flip through the brittle pages. Sections entitled "Girlhood" and "Puberty" flashed before her eyes before she found the section she sought: "Reproduction." She began to read the passage that followed. "It is interesting to observe that the children of so-called great wizards are seldom above average in magical prowess, where, on the other hand, almost all wizards of great power have had exceptionally clever mothers." _Well_, she thought with a smirk, _that explains why Severus was so insistent on having a bright witch bear his children._

An extensive explanation of the mechanics of consummation and conception followed, which she skimmed until she found the spell she needed: "One of the common questions asked by young women in early married life is how to tell if they are pregnant. The author recommends the use of '_Gravida ostendo_'– literally translated, 'to show pregnancy.' This spell is easily cast by waving one's wand in fluid motions across one's midsection while reciting the incantation. A white light indicates no pregnancy, while a green light confirms that you are, indeed, with child."

"Well, that seems simple enough," Hermione announced to the empty room. She gripped her wand tightly and swept it above her stomach as she solemnly chanted "_Gravida ostendo_." For a moment, there was no light and she frowned, uncertain what she could have possibly done wrong. But then she noticed a faint light coming from underneath her blouse. She ripped her shirt up and saw her stomach was glowing – faintly, but distinctly - green.

She was only vaguely aware of her wand clattering to the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The book she gets the spell from is shamelessly modeled after Margaret Sanger's "What Every Girl Should Know."


End file.
